


As a White Knight - Reprise

by ChrisCalledMeSweetie



Series: White Knight [2]
Category: CrissColfer - Fandom, Glee RPF
Genre: First Time, Friendship, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/pseuds/ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s Darren’s first person account of how he and Chris met as kids at horse camp, and then came back as counselors to fall in love and explore all of the ways they could lose their virginity together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t yet read As a White Knight on His Steed, I recommend that you start there, since that story provides the background and context for this one.

Hi!  I’m Darren Criss.  I’m 18 years old, and I’m madly in love with my best friend.  This is the story of how it all happened.

 

Please bear with me if I seem to get a little over-enthusiastic in the telling.  My friends tend to compare me to an overgrown puppy. Well, most of my friends do. My new roommate, Joey, says I’m too short to be described as overgrown, so I’m just a puppy. I’d take offense, but he’s actually totally awesome.  I’m sure we’re going to be the best of friends.  Or, at least, the second-best of friends.  ‘Cause no one will ever be my _best_ best friend except Chris.

 

It all started when I was 8 years old. My parents signed me up for a week at a place down near Santa Cruz called Ride ‘Em Cowboy Ranch Camp. My older brother, Chuck, was off at some sort of sleep-away camp of his own, and looking back at it, I think Mom and Dad just wanted me out of the house for a week.  So they could do, you know, grown-up things.

 

Anyway, the first person I met when we arrived was Chris.  I instantly got a crush on him.  No – of course I didn’t know it was a crush at the time.  I was 8 years old.  Give me a break. But I knew right away that I was drawn to him.

 

… To be continued?...


	2. "Sorry So Short and Sloppy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s POV on Chapter 1 of As a White Knight on His Steed

1998

 

I was always a pretty easy-going, confident kid, but I would have been freaking out about my first night away at camp if it wasn’t for the comfort of knowing that Chris was asleep beneath me.  _No – not like that_. Come on, now, get your mind out of the gutter!  We were _eight_ , remember?  But having him in the bottom bunk, even though I couldn’t see him or touch him, was like a security blanket for me.

 

That first summer, Chris just seemed like the epitome of cool.  He’d already been at camp for a week before I arrived, so of course he knew all of the counselors, all of the horses, all of the routines, all of the best places to sneak away for a few minutes when we wanted a little break from the rest of the boys. I thought he knew _everything_. 

 

Looking back, now, I realize that Chris got as much out of our friendship that summer as I did, but at the time I felt like the tag-along little brother – a role I was quite comfortable in, since I’d spent my whole life following my totally awesome real-life brother, Chuck, around like a puppy.  I looked up to Chris so much.  I wanted to be just like him, and I wanted to be near him all the time. 

 

One week together was nowhere near long enough. When our parents came to pick us up, we convinced them to sign us up for three weeks the following summer.

 

I must have driven my mom a little crazy on the ride home, talking about Chris non-stop, ‘cause I remember her saying, eventually, with that super-patient voice she sometimes got, “Honey, I know you and Chris had a wonderful time together at camp.  And I know you’re really excited about getting to spend time with him again next summer.  But remember, you have other friends at home, and I’m sure he does, too. I don’t want you to be too disappointed if he doesn’t have time to write to you.”

 

_What?!?_

 

I _knew_ Chris would write to me.  We _promised_ to write to each other.  And it didn’t matter if I had other friends, or he had other friends.  We were each other’s _best_ friends. 

 

My mom usually seemed so smart, but in this case, she clearly just didn’t get it.

 

I still have every letter Chris ever sent me. I’ve re-read them dozens of times, and each one is special in its own way.  I think the one I treasure the most, though, is the first one he ever wrote.

 

_Dear Darren,_

_How are you? I’m fine.  But I miss you.  I can’t wait to see you again next summer.  Do you miss me?  You’re my best friend.  Am I still your best friend?  I hope so._

_Love,_

_Chris_

_P.S.  Sorry so short and sloppy.  I’m writing this in the car on the way home from camp._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll echo Chris by saying “Sorry so short.” I’m guessing that the chapters in this story will vary quite a bit in length, depending on how much Darren has to say about each of the events in As a White Knight on His Steed. I don’t want to simply repeat that story, nor do I want to put words in Darren’s mouth just for the sake of making this longer. So I hope that you’ll be satisfied with some short (but hopefully sweet) chapters, and that I can make up for my limited word count by giving you frequent updates.  
>  As you can see, I’ve decided to work on this story before heading back to The Land of Stories 2: Gleeful Days Are Here Again. Although that story got more overall hits, this one had the most vocal supporters. And since I’m a review-driven writer, I figured that vocal supporters would translate to more comments and kudos. Please prove me right! :D


	3. "Why Do You Have To Be So Gay?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 2 of As a White Knight on His Steed

1999

 

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m a touchy-feely kind of guy.  That’s been true my whole life.  It’s true with my family, it’s true with my friends, but it’s always been the most true with Chris.

 

From the moment we met, I felt like Chris and I were connected emotionally, and for me that translated into wanting to be physically connected, as well.  Our first summer at camp, we walked around holding hands constantly. It just felt natural to have his hand in mine.  I never stopped to think about it, and it certainly never occurred to me that anyone might have a problem with it.

 

When we returned to camp the following summer, Chris and I picked up right where we’d left off.  Being physically affectionate was a big part of our friendship – we’d hug, we’d roughhouse, we’d bump shoulders or sit with our knees touching. And nearly everywhere we went, we’d hold hands.  Everyone knew we were best friends, and everyone was cool with that.

 

Until Max showed up.

 

…

 

I’d heard kids at school say “That’s so _gay_!” and then everyone would go “Oooooh!” and look around to see if the teacher had heard someone using a bad word. And then, of course, growing up in San Francisco, I knew there were people who were gay.  But I’d never associated those two things.

 

I guess, in my mind, ‘gay’ was one of those multiple meaning words that Mrs. Wilson taught us about.  Like ‘hard’ can mean the opposite of easy, or ‘hard’ can mean the opposite of soft.  She even brought a bag of cotton balls and a bag of rocks outside one day, and set up some empty plastic water bottles for us to try to knock down.  She had us predict which would be harder to throw, and which we could throw harder.  Man, that blew my mind.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to throw a cotton ball?  No one could even hit the bottles, let alone knock one over. Our aim wasn’t that much better with the rocks, but at least when someone did get a hit, the bottle would fall over with a satisfying _thunk_.

 

Most of the kids were just so excited that the teacher was actually letting them throw rocks (instead of sending them to the principal’s office for even thinking about it) that I’m not sure how much they were focused on what she was trying to teach us.  But it really struck me – the magic of words, and how the same one can mean two totally different things. 

 

That’s how ‘gay’ was in my mind – one meaning was the opposite of cool, and one was the opposite of straight, and the two meanings were the opposite of each other.

 

So, at first, when Max said, “Why do you have to be so gay?” I thought he meant, “Why do you have to be so lame?”  (Which was another one of those multiple meaning words that I hadn’t thought about until I got to camp and heard the word ‘lame’ used in its non-slang form to refer to a horse who was walking with a limp.) And that seemed like a mean thing to say.

 

Then Andrew, our Horse Sense instructor, stepped in and told Max, “The primary value of this camp is respect.  Now, ‘gay’ is not a bad word, and being gay is not a bad thing.  But when you call someone ‘gay’ with a scornful tone of voice, you are using the word as an insult. That is not something that we tolerate here.  I would like you to apologize to Darren and Chris.” 

 

And Max said he was sorry, so I figured that was then end of it.

 

But I was wrong.

 

So, so wrong.

 

Later that day, as Chris and I were walking along, holding hands, Max came up behind us and snarled, “Since I’m not supposed to call you ‘gay’ I should just call you what you are – a couple of little fags!”

 

That memory still hurts me.  Not because of the words themselves, but because of the look they put on Chris’s face.  Shock, and pain, and then this terrifying, shuttered-down shame. God, I needed to take those feelings away from him more than I needed to breathe.   

 

I wrapped my arms around him, and wrapped my love around him, and willed the world to disappear.  But the world did something better than disappearing. It filled up with the voices of all of our friends:

 

“That was so mean!”

 

“I can’t believe Max was so rude!”

 

“Don’t pay any attention to him.”

 

“He’s just mad because you’re both better riders than he is.”

 

“Yeah, and he’s jealous because he doesn’t have a best friend here.”

 

“Don’t listen to him!”

 

And I loved all of them so much in that moment. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the look they put on Chris’s face.  Relief, and confidence, and that sparkly-eyed aliveness that is just so _Chris_. And suddenly I was able to breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see how Darren looked in this chapter, click on the link and then scroll down to the picture of him with his brother, Chuck, outside Stuart Hall: http://adorkabledarrencriss.tumblr.com/tagged/pre%20highschool   
> Wasn’t he a cutie?  
>  And if you want to see what makes me update more quickly, try writing me a comment or leaving kudos. ;D


	4. Something Magical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 3 of As a White Knight on His Steed

1999 – 2001

 

Even though Chris and I were best friends, we only got to see each other at camp.  During the school year, we had to survive as pen pals.  Fortunately for me, Chris has always loved to write. I got a letter from him at least once a week, and I always wrote back right away.

 

When we were in fourth grade, Chris started sending me stories along with his letters.  Here’s the first one he ever wrote for me:

 

_Once upon a time there were two boys named Darren and Chris.  They were best friends, so of course they did everything together._

_One Saturday morning as they were walking to the library together, Chris said, “I wish Mrs. Peters wouldn’t give us homework on the weekend.”_

_“I know,” Darren said.  “But at least we can do it together.”_

_“Yeah,” Chris agreed.  “Can you imagine how terrible it would be if we weren’t in the same class?”_

_“That would totally suck!” Darren said._

_They arrived at the library and found the book of fairy tales they needed for their homework assignment.  When they opened the book, it started to glow and hum.  Suddenly, Darren and Chris got sucked right into the book.  They landed in a strange forest._

_Darren and Chris looked around.  They were surrounded by the biggest, meanest looking wolves they had ever seen. There were at least a dozen wolves, and they all had huge, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes.  The wolves began to come closer and closer._

_Darren and Chris didn’t know what to do.  They were shaking with fear.  They grabbed each other’s hands and held on tight._

_Just as the wolves were about to attack, a teenage girl came galloping up on a white horse.  She jumped down to the ground and whipped out a pair of ninja swords.  She spun the swords around, slashing at the wolves. Her horse spun around, too, kicking wolves in every direction.  Pretty soon all of the wolves ran away._

_“Wow!” said Darren.  “That was awesome!  Who are you?”_

_“I’m Goldilocks,” said the girl._

_“But I thought Goldilocks was just a little girl,” Chris said._

_“I grew up,” Goldilocks said.  “Everyone does.  Unless they get eaten by the big bad wolves, that is.  So if you two want to live to be teenagers, you’d better get out of here before they come back.”_

Isn’t that the most awesome thing ever? I mean, imagine being a nine-year-old boy and getting a starring role in a story about wolves and ninja swords, along with your best friend in the whole world. 

 

Of course, I begged for more.  And of course, Chris never let me down. Every week he’d send me a new chapter about our adventures in the fairy tale world.  Sometimes we’d meet up with Cinderella, or Snow White, or Jack and the Beanstalk, and sometimes we’d encounter random trolls, or goblins, or dragons.  But always we’d be together.  And honestly, that was the best part.

 

The following summer, when we were ten _(six whole weeks of camp – yay!)_ Chris introduced me to Harry Potter.  It’s hard for me to believe, now, that there was ever a time when I hadn’t heard of Hogwarts, but like most of the other magical things in my life, that one started with Chris.  And in the same way that the stories Chris wrote began with the two of us getting sucked into a book of fairy tales, I felt as though we’d been sucked into a world of witches and wizards and magical beasts.  All that I wanted – all that I needed – was to spend that summer cuddled up with my best friend, reading to each other.

 

The only bad thing about having a perfect summer is that it doesn’t last forever. 

 

Have you ever wished for something so desperately that you felt like you could make it happen by sheer force of will? It seemed like camp just _couldn’t_ end.   And then, when it did, it seemed like there was no way we could _possibly_ say goodbye.  And then, when we did, it seemed like we’d just _have_ to see each other before the next summer.

 

So here’s a weird but true story:

 

Chris had always seemed a little bit magical to me. Not like he could _do_ magic, but like he _was_ magic.  And then reading about Professor McGonagall changing into a cat made me think of how there’s something catlike about Chris, too. So all through that endless fifth-grade school year, whenever I would see an unfamiliar cat outside, I would have this fleeting thought of _maybe Chris has come to visit me_. 

 

I knew it was just make-believe (I’m not crazy, no matter what my friends might tell you) but somehow, I always had to get closer, just to check.  Sometimes the cat would get scared and run off, and then I’d know it wasn’t Chris, ‘cause he’d never be afraid of me.  And sometimes I could tell by the way the cat was sitting or moving that it wasn’t him, ‘cause there’s something about the way Chris holds himself, and something about the way he moves, that is just unmistakable. 

 

But sometimes I could hold onto the illusion until I got close enough to look directly into the cat’s eyes.  And then I’d feel this nonsensical wave of disappointment.  Because I’d know Chris’s eyes anywhere, and they were never there looking back at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Starkids out there? Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Anyone out there have no idea what I’m referring to? Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too. Now talk amongst yourselves – feminist postmodern literature – go! ;D   
> P.S. The more feedback I get, the faster I’ll write. Hint, hint… ;D   
> P.P.S. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N3FWiqMS_kk


	5. "I'm Afraid I'm Losing You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s POV on Chapter 4 of As a White Knight on His Steed

2001

 

Isn’t it ironic that after I’d spent an entire school year pining for Chris so badly that I’d actually been fantasizing that he could turn into a freaking _cat_ to come visit me, when we finally got to see each other again he suddenly felt insecure about our friendship?

 

That was one of our rare out-of-sync moments, and thank God it didn’t last.  ‘Cause to hear him say “I’m afraid I’m losing you” nearly broke my heart.

 

But one of the great things about Chris (and there are too many to count – trust me, I’ve tried) is how brave he can be about letting me know how he’s feeling.  And another one of the (uncountable, remember) great things about Chris is how quick he is to forgive me whenever I’ve (unintentionally – ‘cause you know I would rather _die_ than cause him pain on purpose) hurt him.

 

And have you noticed how convoluted and parenthetical my thoughts are, here?  Well, that’s yet another one of the myriad great things about Chris: he’s Mr. Articulate.  And one last (for the time being) great thing about Chris is that he can always make me laugh.

 

So when you put all of that together, it adds up to the fact that once Chris had told me that he was afraid that I’d rather have Harry for a best friend instead of him (which could never in a million, billion, gazillion eons be true) we hugged and talked about it until we both felt better, and then we turned that momentary pain into one of the best games we’ve ever created.

 

(Or, at least, one of the best games we’ve ever created that’s suitable for children…)

 

It started the next afternoon during our riding lesson. Our instructor, Ryan, had just told us – for what felt like the thousandth time – “Remember to keep your heels down, so you don’t lose your stirrups.”

 

Chris called out in mock dismay, “Oh no! Come back, stirrups! I’m afraid I’m losing you!”

 

I had to do a double take.  ‘Cause after our talk the night before, although I knew we were okay, I didn’t know whether we were okay enough to joke about it yet. But apparently we were. One look at Chris’s grinning face, and I broke out laughing.

 

Ryan put on his serious, instructorly voice, and said, “Stay focused.”

 

Which seemed to me like the perfect setup for my next line.  “Oh no! Come back, focus! I’m afraid I’m losing you!”

 

Chris cracked up, clearly delighted that I’d caught on to what he was doing.  I couldn’t help blowing him a kiss.

 

Ryan rolled his eyes at us.  “You guys are disgustingly cute.  You’re going to make me lose my lunch.”

 

“Oh no!  Come back, lunch!  I’m afraid I’m losing you!”

 

“You both sound like you’ve lost your marbles.”

 

“Oh no!  Come back, marbles!  I’m afraid I’m losing you!”

 

And then we couldn’t stop laughing. I mean, we really couldn’t stop. My stomach hurt, and then my back hurt, and pretty soon tears were leaking out of my eyes, but every time I tried to get a grip on myself I’d make the mistake of glancing over at Chris, and the way he was laughing just as uncontrollably as I was would set me off again.

 

Eventually, our other instructor, David, had to help both of us dismount, ‘cause we were seriously in danger of falling off of our horses. He told us to go splash some cold water on our faces and come back when we were ready to behave appropriately. But even the realization that we’d just gotten _kicked out of class_ couldn’t sober us up.  I’ve kind of blocked the next part out of my mind, but I think I might even have peed my pants a little…

 

Anyway, from that moment on, the phrase “I’m afraid I’m losing you” was guaranteed to make us dissolve in laughter. By the end of the week, it seemed like all of our friends were tripping over each other, trying to set us up with the perfect lead-ins.  I’d never thought about how many things could be lost – losing sleep, losing a bet, losing your mind – it was all grist for the giggle-mill.

 

One thing you should know about Chris and me, though, is that we’re always going to find a way to turn something that’s world-class fun into something that’s galaxy-class fun.  So the verbal version of our running joke was just the beginning. That weekend, we found a way to step it up to a live-action version.

 

Every week, most of the campers went home on Saturday morning, and the new group didn’t come in until Sunday afternoon. That gave the few of us who were staying for multiple weeks the luxury of unstructured time. We weren’t allowed to go riding or swimming without an adult, but the counselors trusted us enough to let us go off for a walk in the woods by ourselves. 

 

That first Saturday, Chris and I headed out on our own right after lunch.  Have you ever walked through a redwood forest?  Stepping out of the sunshine, the temperature instantly drops ten degrees. The duff is soft underfoot, and the trees seem to absorb all sound.  It’s magical.

 

Chris and I were strolling along peacefully, when suddenly he dropped my hand and went sprinting off through the trees. By the time I’d recovered from my surprise, he’d disappeared.  After a moment’s confusion, I figured out what he was up to.

 

In my most pitiful voice, I called out, “Come back, Chris!  I’m afraid I’m losing you!”

 

No response.  As I stood there, perplexed, staring off in the direction I’d seen him go, I was suddenly tackled from behind.  I let out an embarrassing yelp as Chris and I tumbled to the ground.

 

And then we were rolling around, laughing like loons, trying to pin each other down.  Chris ended up on top, since the element of surprise was in his favor, and plus he’d partially knocked the wind out of me when we hit the ground. I tickled him until he rolled away from me, and then I scrambled up and took off running.

 

The woods were perfect for this full-contact version of hide-and-sneak.   All afternoon we took turns, one of us running off, the other calling out “Come back!  I’m afraid I’m losing you!” and then looking around in the hopes of spotting the one who was circling around behind the trees before a sneak attack could be launched. There were no rules, other than the ones that evolved as the day wore on – most of which seemed to be designed to maximize the amount of time we spent rolling around in the duff together.

 

By the time we showed up for dinner, we were sweaty and filthy, with redwood needles in our hair and enormous grins on our faces.

 

Best PG-rated game ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in my original story was too angst-ridden for my taste, so this was my opportunity to make some lemonade. Delicious, full-contact lemonade… Mmmm…  
>  Wait – where was I? Oh, yeah – please comment. :D


	6. Captain Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapters 5 & 6 of As a White Knight on His Steed

2002 – 2008

 

One of the ways in which I hurt Chris ( _so, so unintentionally_ ) was by being completely unaware of the significance of my feelings for him.  He was my best friend, and since I’d never had another best friend to use as a comparison, I just figured that how I felt about him was how everybody must feel about their best friends.

 

If I wanted to be with him all the time, it was because he was my best friend.  If I thought he was the funniest, smartest, coolest, and most amazing person I’d ever met, it was because he was my best friend.  If I felt the need to be constantly touching him, it was because he was my best friend.  And if my heart sped up whenever we were together, well, that must have been because he was my best friend, too.  Right?

 

The final week of our final year as campers, I almost had a glimpse of something more.

 

I’d been thrown from my horse and briefly lost consciousness.  When I came to, Chris was bending over me, lips close to mine.

 

As soon as I opened my eyes, he flung his arms around me, crying, “Darren!  Are you okay?”

 

I groaned, then nodded.  “I think so,” I told him.  Then I blurted out, “Were you going to kiss me?”

 

Chris blushed.  “You weren’t breathing,” he explained.  “We learned about rescue breathing in health class, and I thought you needed it.”

 

I had this momentary flash of disappointment, and then I quickly told myself _Duh – of course I know about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Why would I ever think Chris was going to kiss me? I must’ve hit my head harder than I realized._

And I just pushed the whole episode right out of my mind.  Because I’m Captain Oblivious: able to miss a flashing neon clue in the blink of an eye. It’s a bird – it’s a plane – _no_ , it’s _Darren_ , once again failing to notice the massive crush he has on his best friend… 

 

Believe me – you can’t be shaking your head over my obtuseness any more than I am.  And it only got worse from there.

 

…

 

Sometimes denial ain’t just a river in Egypt.

 

When camp ended, I guess I couldn’t cope with the fact that Chris and I might never see each other again, so I just didn’t think about it.  At 12, I’d outgrown my magical thinking enough that I no longer expected him to show up on my doorstep as a tabby, but not enough that I didn’t still expect the universe to find a way to bring us back together.  Maybe his family would move to San Francisco.  Maybe my family would move to Clovis.  Maybe an earthquake would cause most of the central valley of California to get sucked down into oblivion, leaving San Francisco and Clovis right next to each other.  It could happen.

 

Well, the years went by, and it didn’t happen.

 

Meanwhile, I managed to remain completely clueless about my sexual orientation.  You’d think, growing up as a theater kid in San Francisco, that I would have had enough gay role-models to figure it out.  But even in San Francisco, I still lived in a heteronormative world. I mean, my parents were straight, my brother was straight, the overwhelming majority of characters on TV were straight, and at school ( _Catholic school_ ) it was just kind of assumed that everyone – including me – was straight.

 

And for some unfathomable reason, I never really questioned it. 

 

Or maybe the reason was Chris. 

 

I know that must sound totally backwards, but let me explain.  If I’d ever been attracted to another guy, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed. But I never was drawn to anyone – girl or boy – the way I was drawn to Chris.  Which, yeah, maybe that should have given me a clue, but remember, I assumed that was just the way people felt about their best friends.

 

And yes, I’ve heard the saying “Don’t assume – it makes an ass out of u and me.”  So apparently I’m an ass. 

 

But at least I’m a lucky ass.  ‘Cause the universe did eventually find a way to bring us back together.     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Darren, Darren, Darren… What are we going to do with your ridiculous self? (Well… I, for one, can think of a few things… ;))   
>  Your comments and kudos make me so happy. And guess what I do when I’m happy? I write! So keep ‘em coming. :D


	7. Gotta Get Back to Horse Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 7 of As a White Knight on His Steed

2008

 

Getting that letter from David and Ryan seemed like fate.  I mean, how perfect was it that they’d bought the camp and wanted me and Chris to come and work there as riding instructors?  Clearly, Chris and I were destined to see each other again, and Ride ‘Em Cowboy Ranch Camp – the only place we’d ever been together – was destined to be the location where it happened.

 

I mean, if it wasn’t about the universe trying to bring me and Chris back together, there would have been no possible reason for me to receive that job offer.  I was singularly unqualified to work with children.  Except, maybe, for the fact that I still kind of was one. 

 

I thought:  _Oh no – I’ll have to pretend that the stuff that the kids are doing is bad. Like if kids are throwing rocks and playing with matches, I have to tell them that’s bad, ‘cause they’re, like, tiny, and that’s a terrible thing to do, you can get in a lot of trouble. But when I was a kid, that was like the coolest thing to do, was to throw rocks and play with fire. ‘Cause that’s what you do when you’re a kid, ‘cause it’s awesome.  But when you’re a camp counselor, you have to be like ‘No, don’t do that, that’s bad.’_

 

But then I thought:  _Well, it’ll be okay, because we won’t actually be counselors. We’ll be riding instructors. So all we have to do is teach the kids how to ride.  Someone else can tell them not to play with matches._

 

But then I thought:  _How can I be a riding instructor?  I mean, yeah, I got to be a pretty decent rider after five summers at camp, but to be honest, it was never really about the horses for me.  If I’d met Chris at underwater basket-weaving camp, I would have spent every one of those summers weaving baskets under water, just to be near him.  That wouldn’t necessarily make me qualified to be an underwater basket-weaving instructor….  Now don’t get me wrong – I love horses.  But does that mean I can teach kids how to ride?_

 

But _then_ I thought:  _Who cares? I get to spend the summer with Chris!  Yay!!! Gotta get back to horse camp!_

And that was my final thought on the matter.

 

…

 

Man, it was good to see him again.  I’d almost forgotten how much I missed him. I mean, for all of my teenage years up until that moment, he hadn’t been around.  And I’d gone on about my life, and I was okay, and most of the time I was even happy – ‘cause by nature I’ve always been a pretty happy guy – but all along there’d been something missing, and **_Wham!_** – here he was.

 

Seeing him again was like being struck by lightning, in the best possible way.  As though every cell in my body had been electrified, and all of those little atoms were just bouncing around like crazy.  Like my blood was filled with champagne bubbles.  Which I know in real life would probably kill you, but I didn’t feel like I was going to die.  Or maybe I felt like I already had, and seeing Chris again was heaven.  Too much? Yeah, okay, I know, I get overexcited sometimes.  Well, most of the time, when it comes to Chris.  Anyway, I was giddy with joy.  

 

The second he stepped out of his car I threw my arms around him.  I can’t remember exactly what I said, but I know I was babbling something about how much I’d missed him and how great it was to see him. 

 

It felt _so good_ to have him in my arms again.  I never wanted to let go, but Chris just gave me a slightly tentative hug before stepping back.  Which was okay, because I remembered how it used to take him a few minutes to warm up at the beginning of each summer, after we hadn’t seen each other all year. And this separation had lasted _six_ years, so I figured I could give him a little while longer. 

 

“Come on inside,” I told him, leading the way into our bunkhouse.  “It’s kind of small, but we’ve got the whole place to ourselves.  This is gonna be totally awesome!” 

 

I swept my arm out in a grand gesture around the room.

 

“I put my stuff on the top bunk for old time’s sake, but I’ll switch if you want,” I offered.

 

“No, that’s fine,” Chris said.  “I’m used to being on the bottom.”

 

His voice hadn’t changed – it was still as beautiful as I remembered.  But now that I was able to look past my initial elation at seeing him, I could tell there was something a little off in his tone, and in the way he was holding himself.

 

“Are you okay?” I asked.  “You seem tired, or something.  I know it’s a lot longer drive from Clovis than from San Francisco.  Do you wanna take a nap?”

 

“No, I’m okay,” Chris replied.  He smiled at me, but it wasn’t quite the crinkly-eyed smile I remembered.  

 

“The rest of the summer staff won’t be arriving ‘til later,” I explained.  “David and Ryan told me they left a few horses in the corral, if we wanna go for a ride. What do you think?”

 

“Sure.  Just give me a minute to bring my stuff in from the car and go to the bathroom.”

 

…

 

Well, going for a ride turned out to be a good call. Being around the horses loosened both of us up – I stopped feeling like I was about to bounce out of my skin, and Chris finally relaxed.   It was easy, then, to fall into conversation, reminiscing about all of those childhood summers at camp.

 

By the time we got back from our ride, Chris put my feelings into words perfectly: “I can’t believe I’m going to get paid to do this all summer.  And I’m really glad I get to do it with _you_.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've gotta watch this video of Darren talking about being a camp counselor: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C23lbF5jrfU&feature=youtu.be&t=4m47s He really does say all of that stuff about throwing rocks and playing with matches. ;D


	8. "I Won't Bite"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 8 of As a White Knight on His Steed

That evening, after we’d gotten acquainted (well, mostly re-acquainted, since we already knew just about everyone) with all of the other staff members, Chris and I returned hand-in-hand to our bunkhouse.

 

“Guess what I brought?” I asked him.

 

“A guitar,” said Chris, glancing at the case leaning against the wall.

 

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was thinking of. Guess what I brought to read?”

 

“ _Harry Potter_?”

 

“The complete series!  Last time we were together, we’d just finished _The Prisoner of Azkaban_.  Do you want to start with _Goblet of Fire?_  Or should we go back to the beginning?”

 

“You mean, like, read to each other?”

 

“Of course!  It’s a tradition.  You can’t seriously expect me to read to myself, can you?” 

 

“Of course not,” Chris said, laughing. “What was I thinking? Let’s start with _The Goblet of Fire_.”  

 

“Good call,” I agreed.  “Do you want the first shower?”

 

“No, you go ahead.  I haven’t even made my bed yet.”

 

The shower was tiny, the water was barely lukewarm, and the pressure wasn’t great, but I was too psyched to care.  This was _our_ bathroom.  Mine and Chris’s. In _our_ bunkhouse.  Our own private little spot in the middle of the woods, where we were going to get to spend the entire summer.  _Together_. Hogwarts itself couldn’t be more of a castle.  

 

Speaking of Hogwarts, I couldn’t wait to reestablish our nightly bedtime reading routine.  While Chris was in the shower, I got out my copy of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_ and plopped down on the bottom bunk. 

 

Chris emerged from the bathroom already dressed in his pajamas and sat down in his desk chair.

 

“Do you have a letter you need to write?” I asked.

 

“No,” Chris said, still at his desk. “I’m ready for the story, if you are.”

 

“Well, then, c’mere,” I told him, patting my leg to remind him where his head was supposed to be resting.

 

Chris hesitated.  What was going on?

 

“C’mon,” I urged.  “I won’t bite.” 

 

When he just kept sitting there, looking strangely torn, I added, “But the _Monster Book of Monsters_ might!” 

 

And with that, I leapt up, snapping the book’s covers open and closed toward him.

 

Chris popped up out of his chair, and I chased him around the room, making my most ferocious growling noises.  Chris was letting out these adorable little squeals, and trying to dodge me, but there was literally nowhere to go in that tiny bunkhouse.  He stumbled, and I took the opportunity to grab him and toss him down on the bed.

 

“There!” I crowed in triumph.  “Now, are you going to lie there and listen to the story, or do I have to let this book bite your toes?”

 

Chris was laughing so hard, he could barely speak. “Okay, okay,” he gasped. “Don’t let it get me!”

 

“Fine.  But let there be no more of this silly sitting-in-chairs nonsense.”

 

We grinned at each other.  And then Chris’s head was in my lap, where it belonged, and I was running my fingers through his soft, still-damp hair, while we shivered deliciously over J K Rowling’s description of what was happening in the Riddle house. 

 

Reading one of my favorite books, with my very favorite person, I was a happy camper.

 

…

 

You know what else made me a happy camper? Ryan had us playing all of these great team-building games the whole next day.  Watching Chris open up and connect with the rest of the staff just warmed my heart.  Plus, they were wickedly fun!

 

But the absolute best moment came that evening at dinner.  Guess where Chris happened to casually mention that he was headed in the fall?  _The University of Michigan!_   Where I’d just been accepted!  We were going to the same school!

 

I may have gotten a little overexcited and accidentally shoved him off of the bench we were sitting on.  _Ooops._   But I just couldn’t contain myself. I mean, the universe had seriously outdone itself on this one.  I’d been thrilled enough simply to be getting to spend the summer with Chris. And now the next four years had landed in my lap like the perfect Christmas puppy.  Who _wouldn’t_ be flailing around, knocking their best friend to the floor? (Well, not me, obviously.)

 

I couldn’t believe he hadn’t told me sooner. And I was surprised to realize that I’d never mentioned it to him, either.  Clearly, we had a lot of catching up to do.  But that was no problem, ‘cause now we had plenty of time to do it.  

 

…

 

That first week, before the campers arrived, just flew by.  Somehow, Chris and I had learned (or, at least, I _hoped_ we’d learned) everything we needed to know in order to be bona fide riding instructors. 

 

By Saturday, we felt like we deserved a break. So after breakfast, Chris and I packed a picnic lunch and took a busman’s holiday – riding out on one of the trails we hadn’t yet had a chance to explore. 

 

Glancing over at Chris, I couldn’t remember ever having felt so utterly content.  He caught my gaze and raised one eyebrow in that questioning way he has, silently asking _“Why are you smiling like a complete idiot?”_

 

“I’m glad you’re still my best friend,” I told him.

 

His answering smile was just as big and idiotic as mine.      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m leaving on a weeklong trip in a couple of days, and I’m not sure what my internet service will be like. I’ll try to find some time to write, and I’ll post if I can, but please don’t worry if you don’t get an update for a while. I’ll still be thinking of you – and the boys.   
> As always, comments make me smile. :D


	9. "What If I Want to Kiss You?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 9 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Have I mentioned that being with Chris was the best thing ever? No matter what we were doing, it was just the best. Dealing with munchkins who’d never been on a horse before, and taking them out on trail rides, and eating in the dining hall, and waking up at the crack of ass to round up the horses – I loved it all.

 

I most especially loved the evening campfires. Music has always been my passion (well, my _acknowledged_ passion) so playing guitar and singing every night was heaven. I can play just about anything by ear, and I still remembered the words to all of the old cowboy songs from when I was a camper. I couldn’t resist giving Chris a little wink-wink, nudge-nudge every time I launched into “Happy Trails”…  

 

…

 

So here’s the thing about me: as I pointed out a while back, I can be Captain Oblivious sometimes. But certain things are so glaringly obvious that even I can’t miss them.

 

All week, I’d been feeling something prickling just under my skin, but I couldn’t quite pin it down. On Friday, though, it finally came to a head.

 

Chris had hurt his back that morning, trying to lift a hundred-pound hay bale by himself. He tried to shrug it off and power through the day, but it was obvious that he was in pain. Even after taking a hot (or as close to hot as it would get) shower that night, his back was still in such knots that he could barely stand up straight. So, like any good friend would, I plopped down on his bunk and offered him a backrub.    

 

“I borrowed this liniment from Zach,” I told him. “He swears it will have you feeling better in no time.”

 

“Is that the stuff he rubs on the horses?” Chris asked suspiciously.

 

“Yeah. But it says right on the bottle that you can use it on people, too. C’mon.”

 

Chris walked stiffly over to the bed and lay down on his stomach with a groan. I straddled his hips and began pulling up his pajama top.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding flustered.

 

“Well, you don’t expect me to put the liniment on _over_ your shirt, do you?”

 

Chris grunted, and then shifted so that I could remove his shirt. He gasped as I drizzled the liniment over his back, but I could feel him begin to relax as I worked it into his sore muscles. I took my time, kneading at the tight spots until one by one I could feel the knots release.

 

Then Chris made this “mmmm…” noise, and – Oh My God – instant boner! I instinctively leapt off of him, and I must have been halfway up to my own bunk before I could even mumble something about hoping his back felt better. _Utter mortification_. I lay there for the longest time, unable to sleep, using all of my willpower trying not to jerk off.

 

According to a recent survey I read somewhere, 90% of teenage boys said that they masturbate, and 10% lied. Just kidding. I know that there actually are people out there who are asexual, and I don’t mean to make it seem like I think there’s anything wrong with that. I guess my point is just that I’m not one of them. Like, seriously not. I think sex is fucking awesome. But for me, it had always been a strictly DIY activity.

 

At that moment, though, my entire, vast store of obliviousness was crashing down around me. Chris was my best friend, but I suddenly realized that I wanted him to be so much more than that. Like, very, very, very, infinitely much more.

 

…

 

The next day, I was punch-drunk on nervousness and lack of sleep. Was Chris going to say anything to me about the night before? Should I say something to him? How royally was I likely to fuck things up? And why did he have to look so unfairly attractive first thing in the morning?

 

If my grandmother had been there, she would have said I was acting like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Which was actually kind of a helpful thought, since picturing my grandmother at least guaranteed that I wouldn’t be getting any more inappropriate hard-ons.

 

All morning, I tried to focus on my work, but it wasn’t easy with the relentless questions swirling around in my brain. Chris obviously could tell that something was wrong, but we were so busy with the horses, and the campers, and then the parents coming to pick them up, that I just shrugged off all of his attempts to talk.

 

I knew that I was acting like a nutjob, but I simply couldn’t stop. By the time we finally got a break that afternoon, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Chris was ready to slap me. Hell, I was ready to slap myself.

 

But Chris surprised me. Instead of trying to get me to tell him what was going on, he invited me to go out for a ride. Because he’s brilliant.

 

Once we were on the horses, and away from the main camp, I was able to calm down enough to realize that I really did want to talk to him. I waited until we reached a secluded meadow, then slid down off of my horse and ground-tied her. Chris followed suit.

 

I’m not always the most articulate guy. I’m more of a blurter and a rambler, actually. But this conversation seemed too important to just bulldoze my way through without thinking. And the problem with trying to think before I spoke was that I was really confused. I felt like my brain had short-circuited, and now I just kept getting error messages.

 

Since I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to say, I finally decided to go with a question. “Chris, can I talk to you about something?” I asked hesitantly.

 

“Of course. You know you can always talk to me about anything.”

 

“How did you know you were gay?”

 

Chris seemed surprised by my query. “It was pretty obvious,” he said. “I got crushes on boys instead of on girls.”

 

“But how did you know they were crushes? How did you know you didn’t just really like them, and admire them, and want to be like them? You know, like maybe they were your role-models, or something.”

 

“Well, I’ve had plenty of role-models, like my Speech and Debate coach, or David and Ryan. But I never wanted to kiss any of them. If you want to kiss someone, it’s a crush.”

 

I could feel my throat closing up, but I forced myself to ask the next question. “What if I want to kiss _you_?”

 

“Then I think you should.”

 

The blood was pounding in my ears so hard that it took a moment for me to register his answer, and another moment to wonder if I’d heard him correctly. I wrenched my eyes off of the ground and stared at his face. His cheeks were pink, his lashes were lowered, and his lips were parted. That was all the invitation I needed.

 

Stepping forward, I kissed him, quick, before I could lose my nerve. His lips were a revelation.

 

I pulled back just long enough to tell him “I think I’m gay.”

 

“Oh, thank God,” Chris sighed, and he leaned in for another kiss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to keep the conversation from my original story intact in this chapter, with a change in perspective but not a change in dialogue. However, as I was working on this, I realized that although Darren identifies himself here as gay, I actually wrote him in Chapter 6 as somewhat demisexual. Of course, those two orientations needn’t be mutually exclusive. I don’t think that the 18-year-old Darren in this story is familiar with the term demisexual, though, and so he’s identified himself simply as gay, based on the fact that he’s attracted to someone of the same sex, without realizing that (in addition to not being attracted to women) he’s not attracted to men in general, but just to Chris, as a result of their close emotional bond. Does that make sense?


	10. "Things Are About to Get Really Complicated"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 10 of As a White Knight on His Steed

When I kissed Chris, it was a question – and the answer was immediate: **_Yes!_** But when Chris kissed me, that was something else altogether.  I found myself taking an abrupt step backwards. 

 

I was so full of shock and wonder that I couldn’t help stating the obvious.  “You kissed me.”

 

“Well, to be fair, you did kiss me first,” Chris countered.  God, I love that boy’s snark.

 

“Yeah, but that was just to see if I had a crush on you.  Which I…um…apparently… um…do.  But I didn’t think you liked me back.”

 

“Darren,” Chris said, half-laughing. “Are you totally clueless? I’ve had a crush on you since we were ten!”

 

“What?!  Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

 

“Because you’re my best friend, and I thought you were straight, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

 

_Aha_ – so apparently I wasn’t the only idiot here.  “Chris, nothing could ruin our friendship.  You should know that by now.”

 

“I hope you’re right.  Because things are about to get really complicated.”

 

“Why does anything have to be complicated?”

 

“Well, for starters, Darren, we’re not campers anymore. We _work_ here now.  Did it ever occur to you that our bosses might not be overjoyed at the idea of a workplace romance?  That they might feel like it’s not appropriate for us to share a bunkhouse given the nature of our relationship?  What if they decide to make one of us room with Brad, and the other with Ian?”

 

“Oh my god, don’t even joke about such a thing!”

 

“I’m not joking.  David and Ryan are cool, but the bottom line is, they’re running a business here, not a dating service.  If they thought for one minute that our relationship was going to interfere with our work, or cause problems for them with the campers’ families, don’t you think they’d do something about it?”

 

I gave Chris a thoughtful look.  “Well, then, we’ll just have to keep this to ourselves. We’ve always been so close, anyway, that no one’s going to notice the difference.”

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

“Of course I’m right.  Now shut up and kiss me.”

 

Chris leaned forward, but at the last moment he pulled away, looking uncomfortable.

 

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

 

“Yeah,” Chris said shakily.  “It’s just that I’m really new to all of this.”

 

“ _You’re_ new to this?  I just figured out I was gay like ten minutes ago.  You’ve been out for years.”

 

“Yeah, but I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

 

“Well, neither have I, obviously.”

 

“But you’ve had girlfriends.  You have experience.  I’ve never even kissed anyone before today, let alone done anything else.  I just don’t know if I’m ready for all of this.”

 

Looking into Chris’s uncertain face, the choppy waves that had been crashing in my mind all day calmed, and suddenly everything seemed as clear as glass.  It wasn’t complicated at all.  Chris had been my best friend since we were eight years old, and he was my best friend still.   Whatever else we had, that would always be the most important thing to me.

 

“Chris, baby, look at me,” I said.  I don’t know where that term of endearment came from, but it felt right. 

 

I cupped his face in my hand and gazed directly into his incredible eyes as I told him, “There is no ‘all of this’ except what you and I create together.  We never have to do anything that we don’t both want to do.  And if you’re worried about me having more experience, just ‘cause I had a couple of girlfriends in high school, well, it never went further than kissing with any of them.  I thought at the time it was because I was a good Catholic boy, at a good Catholic school, dating good Catholic girls.  But looking back, I guess I was never interested in taking things further because deep down a part of me probably already knew I was gay.  So I really don’t have any more idea about what I’m doing than you do.  We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

 

“Deal,” Chris said, and I thought in that moment that seeing him smile again was even better than kissing him.

 

Of course, in the next moment, I revised that thought…

 

…

 

I guess I was kind of naïve, thinking that everything would be smooth sailing now that Chris and I had confessed our mutual attraction.  It seemed to me like our relationship should be so _easy_ – we already had the perfect friendship, and now we got to add kisses (and, eventually, whatever else we both felt comfortable with) into the mix. That could only make things better, right?

 

So I was taken by surprise, that evening, when Chris freaked out on me, seemingly out of the blue.  I’d just finished showering, and I came out of the bathroom toweling off my hair.

 

Chris looked up from the letter he’d been writing. “What are you doing?” he squawked, with a tone usually reserved for someone who’s about to stick a fork in an electrical outlet.  He whirled around to face the opposite wall.

 

“Drying my hair.  What does it look like I’m doing?”

 

“You’re naked!”

 

“So?” I asked, honestly baffled by his reaction. “We’ve seen each other naked hundreds of times.  What’s the problem?”

 

“We were _kids_ , Darren, and it didn’t mean anything.”

 

_Oh_. Well this was interesting. “So, you’re saying it means something now?” I asked, trying not to smirk.  I might like where this was going.

 

“It _means_ put on some _pants_ , Darren! And a shirt wouldn’t hurt, either, while you’re at it.”

 

Nope, guess I didn’t like where this was going, after all.  What was he making such a big deal about?  I mean, the human body is beautiful, and being naked is completely natural, especially when you’ve just been in the shower.  That’s a totally organic experience, right?  I mean, I always came out of the bathroom to get dressed. It had never been a problem before.

 

When I thought about it, though, I realized that Chris always changed into his pajamas while he was still in the bathroom. And he always had his head down, writing, while I was getting dressed.  Maybe this shyness wasn’t so sudden, after all.

 

Chris cleared his throat, still facing the wall. “Are you decent?” he asked.

 

“No.  But I’ve got my pajamas on, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

Chris grabbed a pillow off of the bed and threw it at me.  I caught the pillow and whacked him with it.

 

“Hey!” Chris yelled, mock-indignant, “Knock it off, or I’ll have to report you for domestic violence.”

 

“Okay, okay,” I laughed, relieved that he was back to his normal, playful self.  I flopped onto the bed and picked up _Harry Potter_. “C’mere and I’ll read you a story.”

 

Chris lay down with his head in my lap, and I ran my fingers through his hair as I read.  At the end of the chapter, I set the book aside and began to scoot down on the bed next to him. 

 

Chris sat up abruptly.  “What are you doing?” he asked, sounding alarmed.

 

“Cuddling,” I answered, bemused.  “We always cuddle after I read to you.”

 

“Yeah, well, that was when it didn’t mean anything.”

 

“What is it with you and everything having to _mean_ something tonight?” I huffed. “Don’t you want to cuddle with me?”

 

“Of course I want to cuddle with you.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?”

 

“The problem, Darren, is that cuddling might lead to other things.”

 

“Chris, baby, we already talked about this. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

“Yeah, but maybe I _do_ want to.”

 

“Then what’s the –”

 

“Darren, if you say ‘what’s the problem’ one more time tonight, I swear I’m going to smother you with this pillow!” Chris yelled, sounding exasperated.  “The _problem_ is that just because I want something, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m ready for it, okay?  Now, will you please get out of my bed?!”

 

“Okay,” I mumbled, standing up.  I felt about two inches tall.

 

Chris looked contrite. 

 

“Hey, Dare, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said, standing up to join me.  “I’m not mad at you.  I just really don’t want to rush into anything.”  He took a deep breath.  “And when you’re so close to me, it’s hard for me to trust myself,” he admitted. “Forgive me?”

 

“Of course,” I said, relief flooding through me when I realized he wasn’t mad.  “And I get it.  I promise, I’m not trying to push you into anything.”

 

“I know,” Chris said. 

 

I wanted so badly to hold him right then, but I didn’t think I could handle any more rejection.  Thank god he made the first move.  “C’mere,” he said, opening his arms.

 

I stepped forward, and he wrapped me in a hug. I clung to him as tightly as I could.

 

“I warned you that this was going to be complicated,” Chris told me.

 

“Yeah,” I murmured into his shoulder, “but it’s worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don’t mind that this followed the original story so closely. I’m realizing that that’s probably going to happen quite a bit from now on. Early in the story, where each chapter covered an entire year or more, it was easy to add in extra stuff. But at this point, it sometimes takes multiple chapters to get through a single day, and there just isn’t space for a lot of new material. So I’m hoping that switching over to Darren’s perspective, even if the events are the same, will keep things interesting enough for you.


	11. This Could Mean Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 11 of As a White Knight on His Steed

There are lots of words I could use to describe those early days of my romantic relationship with Chris, but I think the most accurate word overall would be ‘disorienting.’ 

 

Up until that point, I guess I’d been kind of coasting through life, never getting caught up in the teenage angst and drama that was swirling around.  Sure, there were times (plenty of times) when things didn’t go my way, but I always bounced back without much trouble.  Basically, I was a happy-go-lucky goofball, and I was fine with that.

 

I’d seen my dad reading a book, once, with the improbably long title _Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff… and it’s all small stuff_.  At the time, that seemed so obvious to me that I wasn’t sure why you’d need a whole book to explain it.

 

This thing that was blooming between me and Chris, though, didn’t feel like small stuff at all.  And I really could have used a book to help me make sense of it.

 

The friendship part was easy.  If there was one thing in my life that I was sure of, it was that Chris was my best friend.  I’d never questioned my feelings for him, and I’d never questioned his feelings for me, either. 

 

Once our relationship began to shift into more-than-friends, though, I found myself becoming insecure.  I was thrilled to be with Chris, but the possibility that he might not feel the same way about me that I felt about him was terrifying. And yeah, I know that he’d said that he’d had a crush on me for years, but I was afraid that what _I_ was feeling was so, so much more than a crush.

 

This could mean danger.  I could be falling in love, falling in love, _falling in love_ …

 

And why, you might ask, would that be dangerous? After all, I trusted Chris. I knew he cared about me. I knew he’d never intentionally hurt me.  But nothing in this world was more precious to me than our friendship, and (contrary to what I’d so blithely told him before this crippling doubt set in) I was afraid that I might ruin it.

 

Looking back, now, I realize that my worries were sparked by the differences in how Chris and I approached the physical side of our relationship.  For me, the desire for emotional closeness and the desire for physical closeness were inextricably linked.  When we were kids, that had played out in holding hands, and roughhousing, and cuddling. Now that we were older, and kissing had entered the mix, there was a whole new dimension to the physical-connection/emotional-connection feedback loop, and I just kept wanting more and more.

 

So here’s where I ran into trouble. On Monday, after dinner, when Chris hustled me out of the dining hall, saying, “C’mere – I’ve got something I have to show you,” and then responded to my question with a flirty wink and a “Wait ‘til we get back to the bunkhouse, and you’ll find out,” – well, I thought we were on the same page.

 

I broke into a run, laughing and pulling Chris along the deserted path through the woods.  By the time we were inside our bunkhouse with the door safely shut, we were both out of breath.

 

I pushed Chris up against the inside of the door, kissing him with all of the passion that had been building up inside me. His lips were so soft, and I couldn’t help licking at them, tasting faint traces of syrupy sweetness from the canned fruit we’d had for dessert.  Chris parted his lips slightly, deepening our kiss, and I began to explore his mouth with my tongue.  It was a new and indescribably erotic experience.

 

Chris moaned and fisted one of his hands in my hair, a combination that went straight to my cock.  I think I literally swooned.  With his other hand, he grabbed me around the waist, pulling our hips together.  Oh. My.  Wizard.  God. 

 

I had a millisecond in which to revel in the shocking heat of his unmistakable erection pressing against my own before Chris gasped and pushed me away.

 

I panicked, jumping back quickly, babbling, “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”  I couldn’t bear the thought of him yelling at me the way he had the other night when I wanted to cuddle.

 

“Darren, calm down.  It’s okay,” Chris said, trying to catch his breath. “I just need to cool off for a minute, okay?”

 

“Yeah, okay,” I said, struggling to get control of my own breathing.  “I really wasn’t trying to push you, I promise.”

 

“Dare, I said it’s okay,” Chris repeated. “It’s not your fault. I just got a little carried away.”

 

Then he laughed and said, “Well, I guess it _is_ your fault that I got a little carried away, but you know what I mean.”

 

“Yeah,” I told him, relieved that he wasn’t angry. “No problem.”

 

But here’s the thing – for me, it kind of _was_ a problem.  And it seemed to keep coming up all week.

 

Now, let me be perfectly clear – this was _not_ about me being horny all the time (although, admittedly, I _was_ ). And it was _definitely_ not about wanting to push Chris into doing anything he wasn’t comfortable with.  I hated the very idea that he might feel like I was putting pressure on him.

 

No, the issue for me was that my physical desire for Chris was directly related to how I felt about him emotionally. And although I could completely understand, on an intellectual level, that he might not be ready for a sexual relationship, still, in my heart, I couldn’t help but feel rejected any time he put on the brakes or pulled away from me.  For the first time since I’d known him, I started to question his feelings for me.  And that made me afraid of my feelings for him.      

 

But not afraid enough that I could do anything to stop them.  Suddenly, every cliché about love that I’d ever heard seemed to make perfect sense. The fireworks, the roller coaster, the feeling of being head over heels – yep, they all rang true. He made me weak in the knees, gave me butterflies in my stomach, made my heart skip a beat.

 

My head had always been sort of like an old-fashioned jukebox, with life as its song cue, and now it was in overdrive.

 

_Ever fallen in love with someone, ever fallen in love?  In love with someone, ever fallen in love?  In love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with…_

 

_Help me, I think I’m falling in love too fast…_

 

_Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you..._

 

_If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand?_

_Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it – let’s do it, let’s fall in love..._

_Falling, yes I am falling…_

By the end of the week, I knew that no matter how much it might hurt to hear that he didn’t feel the same way I did, I really needed to talk with Chris.  I waited until Saturday, when we had the whole evening to ourselves. 

 

Steeling myself for the worst, I asked, “Can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Of course, Dare,” Chris said.  “You know you can always talk to me about anything.”

 

I tried to focus on his words, but it was hard to ignore the tension in his voice, matching the tension I’m sure was there in mine. I forced myself to go on. “You know how we’ve been best friends for ten years?”

 

“Mm hmm.”

 

“And you know how we’ve always told each other everything?”

 

“Mm hmm.”

 

“Well, there’s something I’ve never told you. And I feel like I need to say it now.”

 

“Dare, it’s okay,” Chris said, though he seemed to be radiating anxiety.  “You know you can tell me anything.”

 

“Chris, I love you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I love you.”

 

“Wait – that’s _it_?! That’s your big thing that you had to tell me?  I love you too, you goofball!  I can’t believe we’ve never said that before.  I was all prepared for you to confess that you were a serial killer, or something.”

 

“You love me too?”

 

“Of course I love you, Darren.  I’ve loved you since we were eight years old. How could you possibly think that I didn’t?”

 

“But, Chris, I think I’m falling _in love_ with you.”

 

“Well, good.  ‘Cause I’m falling in love with you, too.  Now shut up and kiss me.”

 

So I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s Darren’s mental playlist of classic falling in love songs:  
> Buzzcocks – Ever Fallen in Love: http://youtu.be/terg_LPT3X0?t=1m44s  
> Joni Mitchell – Help Me: http://youtu.be/XOEE-kR-Txg?t=52s  
> U2 (Elvis Presley cover) – I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BWLjG-sNfI  
> The Beatles – If I Fell: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPKYPI1jjdg  
> Ella Fitzgerald – Let’s Do It (Let’s Fall in Love): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RPerSEvP4Y  
> The Beatles – I’ve Just Seen a Face: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1j9lyWDWCs&feature=youtu.be&t=1m35s


	12. "Trying to Make Up for Lost Time"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 12 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Knowing that Chris was in love with me, too, simultaneously made me want to have sex with him immediately and also made me feel as though I’d be perfectly happy if I had to wait forever.  Seriously.  Once I understood that Chris’s reluctance to leap headlong into physical intimacy didn’t indicate any lack of interest in emotional intimacy, my entire sense of urgency was gone.  That unsettling sense of disorientation completely disappeared.  Chris was my true north.

 

It had taken all of the courage I possessed to say those three little words for the first time, but now that the dam had broken, I couldn’t stop repeating them.  Over and over and over, I felt compelled to say “I love you.” And Chris always said it back, which meant that I just _had_ to kiss him, until something about the feeling of his lips meeting mine tugged on my heartstrings so fiercely that I had to pull away and tell him I loved him again.

 

It was a cycle that I could have continued forever, but eventually Chris held up a finger to cut off one of my declarations. “Let me guess?  You love me, right?” he asked.

 

I nodded, grinning back so widely that my face hurt.

 

“So I’ve heard,” Chris told me, in a tone that sounded equal parts fond and exasperated.  “Over and over.  And so I’ve said back.  Over and over. And it’s true. But come on, Dare. When you say something too many times, the words stop having any meaning.  It’s like leaving a song on constant repeat, until it becomes just background noise.”

 

“You’re right,” I agreed sheepishly. “I guess I was just trying to make up for lost time.”

 

“Darren, there’s no such thing as lost time. Everything that we’ve said, and everything that we’ve done, and everything that we’ve been through, has brought us to where we are right now.  And where we are right now is exactly where I want to be.  So seriously, shut up and kiss me.”  

 

Now, who was I to argue with that?

 

Later that evening, after Chris had finished reading the latest chapter of _Harry Potter_ , he clicked off the light and slowly eased his legs out from under my head before lying down behind me and wrapping me in his arms.

 

I hummed contentedly and shifted closer to him, but I was a little surprised by this turn of events.  “What are you doing?” I asked.

 

“Cuddling.”

 

“What happened to your ‘no cuddling now that it means something’ rule?”

 

“I’m breaking it.”

 

“What about being worried that cuddling could lead to other things?”

 

“Darren, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“Just go with it, Darren.  Go to sleep.”

 

“Wait – are you serious?  Are you really going to let me sleep in your bed?”

 

“If you stop giving me the third degree. Yes.”

 

I mimed locking my lips and throwing away the key. I could feel Chris nuzzling into my curls before planting a kiss on the back of my neck. 

 

“I love you,” he murmured.

 

I was afraid to break the spell by speaking, but I squeezed his hand where it was lying pressed against my heart.  My body melted back into his, the feeling at once familiar and intoxicatingly new.  _This is where I belong,_ I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.

 

The next morning I woke up completely refreshed. I couldn’t believe how well I’d slept.  Lying in Chris’s arms felt so right, but I had to pee, so I slipped out of his embrace and went to the bathroom. 

 

I flung the curtains open to let the sun stream in. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I thought _this is what Chris Colfer’s boyfriend looks like first thing in the morning… this is the face of someone who got to wake up next to Chris… this is the lucky guy who Chris is **in love**_ _with!_

 

The day (my whole life, really) was filled with promise.  A little impromptu song and dance came bursting out of me as I left the bathroom and caught sight of Chris, still adorably lying in bed.

 

 “Ugh,” he groaned, opening bleary eyes.  “How can you be so chipper at this ungodly hour?”

 

“Ungodly hour?  Chris, it’s eight o’clock!  We totally slept in.  Now hurry up and get dressed.  It’s a beautiful day!”

 

Chris slowly dragged himself out of bed. “Dare,” he said, “I really love you.  But you’ve **gotta** sleep in your own bunk from now on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos make me gleeful. :D


	13. "I Promised I Wasn't Going to Push You"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 13 of As a White Knight on His Steed

 

Hearing Chris say that I’d have to sleep in my own bunk from then on put a bit of a damper on my exuberance that morning, but I was surprised to find how little it truly bothered me.  I felt like nothing could really disturb my equilibrium now that we’d professed our love for each other. 

 

All of my insecurities from the previous week seemed so silly.  I realized – _Duh!_ – that Chris was not me.  Just because when I was in love with someone (Chris, Chris, _Chris_ – _always Chris_ ) I wanted to be as physically close as possible every single moment of the day and night, that didn’t mean that he did, too.  And that was okay.  What mattered was that he loved me.  And I loved _him_ enough to want him to have whatever he needed, even if what he needed turned out to be me staying in my own bunk so that he could get a good night’s sleep.   

 

Of course, I did my best to negotiate for as much cuddle-time as possible within the boundaries of his comfort zone. After a little back-and-forth, and a lot of kisses, we finally agreed to a nightly snuggle-session every evening between dinner and the campfire.  That way we could keep the cuddling separate from our tradition of reading to each other right before bed, and still end up sleeping in our own bunks. 

 

The first evening didn’t start out quite as smoothly as I’d planned, though.  We hurried away from the dining hall right after dinner, and as soon as we reached the bunkhouse, I threw myself down on top of the blanket on the bottom bunk and patted the space next to me.  “C’mere.”

 

“Darren, get off of my bed!”

 

“You said we could cuddle!”

 

“Darren!”

 

“What?!”

 

“Look at your feet!”

 

I glanced down.  “Oops,” I said apologetically, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.  “I guess I should take my boots off.”

 

“Ya _think_?” Chris asked acidly.

 

“Sorry,” I said, pulling off the offending boots. “I’ve just really been looking forward to cuddling with you all day.  Forgive me?”

 

“Of course,” Chris said.  Because he’s the best.  He sat down on the bed next to me and took off his own boots.

 

I furtively brushed some dirt from the blanket before lying back down.  Then I pulled Chris down in front of me, wrapping him in my arms. 

 

“My turn to be the big spoon,” I told him.

 

“Mmm, okay,” Chris agreed, snuggling back against me. “This feels good.”

 

“It really does, doesn’t it?”

 

Chris interlaced his fingers with mine and brought them to his lips.  I hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

 

After a few minutes, Chris rolled over onto his back and I snuggled against his chest.  We lay quietly like that for a while, half-dozing. 

 

Eventually I roused myself enough to ask, “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

 

Chris seemed to be caught off guard by the question. “Why would you even need to ask?”

 

“Well, we’ve never kissed lying down before. And I know that you want to take things slowly, and that you worry about one thing leading to another, and I promised I wasn’t going to push you, so I just thought I’d better check.”

 

“It’s fine, Darren,” Chris said, smiling.

 

So I kissed him, tentatively at first, and then with more warmth.  Chris returned the kiss, and I was a little surprised to discover that it really did feel different to be doing this lying down.  Mindful of Chris’s desire to take things slowly, I was careful to keep my hips and legs on the bed next to him, and to lean on my forearm so that only our lips were touching.  Still, just the sight of him lying there beneath me was almost unbearably arousing.

 

The sound of my alarm going off couldn’t have been less welcome.  “Damn,” I said. “We need to go to the campfire.”

 

I rolled over and allowed Chris to get up first, surreptitiously adjusting myself in my jeans while his back was turned. _Sigh._

 

 

The next evening found us cuddled back up together on the bed.  This time Chris took the initiative, leaning over and bringing our lips together. I reached up, pulling his chest down against mine.

 

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked at him questioningly.  “Is this okay?”

 

“Um, yeah…um, just…um, you know…um…” Chris stammered, blushing.   It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

 

“Yeah, I know,” I smiled, bringing our lips back together.

 

Chris hesitated for a moment, then kissed me back passionately, all traces of shyness evaporating.   I gasped as I felt his tongue tracing my lips, and he took the opportunity to lick into my mouth, sliding the tip of his tongue along my teeth and then flicking it over my hard palate.  I felt like I was drowning, in the most delicious way.

 

This time, when the alarm went off, I wanted to hurl it across the room.

 

 

All week we kept growing bolder, allowing our hands to roam (above the waist, of course, but _still_ ) and our lips to wander to each other’s necks and ears and collarbones ( _god_ , his _collarbones_ ).  By the time the alarm went off each night, signaling that we had to go to the campfire, I was painfully hard.  It was torture.  The most wonderful, marvelous, exquisite form of torture.

 

By Saturday, I think we were both ready to explode. Knowing that we’d have the entire evening to ourselves, we showered and changed into our pajamas (which I’d gotten into the habit of doing in the bathroom, out of respect for Chris’s sensibilities) right after dinner.  Then we sat side by side on the bed, looking at each other with an equal mixture of hesitance and hunger.

 

I wanted Chris so badly, but there was something daunting in the knowledge that there’d be no alarm clock to interrupt us once we got started.  I felt paralyzed by my desire.  I needed him to make the first move. 

 

Chris broke the tension with a laugh, knocking our shoulders together and asking teasingly, “Well, are you just going to sit there all night giving me puppy-dog eyes, or are we going to cuddle?” 

 

I launched myself sideways, tackling him into the mattress, barking for all I was worth, and then licking his face.

 

Chris squealed, pushing me away.  “Ew!  Dog germs!  Now I’ll have to go wash my face again.”

 

“Aww… Don’t go.  I’ll kiss it and make it better.”

 

Chris’s eyes softened, and I kissed his (slightly slobbery) cheek, then his nose, and finally his lips.  He reached up to pull me closer, and for the first time I allowed myself to settle fully on top of him.  Chris sighed, hugging me tight, and I just melted.

 

Making out with Chris was like entering another dimension, where time didn’t exist.  I lost myself in his lips, his hands, the warmth of his body. Chris moaned as I nibbled across his neck, fisting his hand into my hair in a way that drove me wild. I sucked hard at a spot just below his ear, and was shocked when his hips bucked up, pressing his very obvious erection against my own.

 

I was just about to apologize for taking things too far, when Chris suddenly _growled_ and flipped us over, pinning me beneath him.  He seized my lips in a fierce kiss, grinding his hips down boldly. I gasped in surprise, then returned the kiss with equal passion.  I was completely out of my depth, and yet somehow my body seemed to know just what to do.  Soon, we were rocking rhythmically together. 

 

Suddenly Chris dropped his head against my neck, panting.  I could feel him trembling all over, and not in a good way.  I grabbed his hips with both hands, holding him still. “Chris, baby, are you okay?” I asked, concerned.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Chris, you’re shaking.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re shaking,” I repeated, “and I think you’re hyperventilating.”

 

Chris took a shuddering breath, and I could see tears gleaming in his eyes.  “Sorry,” he choked out.

 

I felt a fierce wave of protectiveness rise up inside of me.  Strange, because I wasn’t sure what exactly I needed to protect him from.  All I knew was that he was frightened and upset, and all I wanted was for him to feel safe and loved.

 

“Shh,” I soothed, scooting partially out from under him and pulling his head down against my chest.  “It’s okay.  There’s nothing to be sorry about.  You know we never need to do anything you don’t want to, right?”

 

“But I _do_ want to.  So what’s _wrong_ with me?”

 

“Chris, baby, _nothing’s_ wrong with you.  Weren’t you the one who told me that just because you want something, that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re ready for it?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, something’s telling me you’re not quite ready for this.  And it’s okay. I’m not in any hurry.”

 

“You’re not mad?”

 

“Of course I’m not mad,” I said emphatically, squeezing Chris more tightly and placing a kiss on his forehead. “I love you.  And I’m happy just to lie here holding you until it’s time to go to sleep.”

 

I wrapped one arm around his back and ran the fingers of my other hand slowly through his hair.  Gradually his quivering eased and his breathing returned to normal. We lay in silence for a while, and there was something infinitely precious in the way I could feel him relaxing against me.

 

“Would you stay here with me tonight?” Chris finally asked.

 

“I’d love to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to dreamcatcher(darcangell23) for being my constant cheerleader as I'm writing this story. If there's anyone else out there who'd be willing to take the time to let me know what you think of this, it would make my day. :D


	14. What Counts as Losing Your Virginity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on the beginning of Chapter 14 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I woke up on Sunday morning missing Chris’s warmth. I blinked my eyes open to find him smiling down at me.

 

“Where’d you go?” I asked sleepily.

 

“I needed to pee.  And I wanted to brush my teeth.”

 

“Hmm, good idea.”

 

When I returned from the bathroom, I slid back into bed beside Chris, kissing him on the tip of his nose.  “Good morning.”

 

“Mmm.  Good morning.”

 

“What did you want to do today?” I asked. “If it heats up, I thought it might be fun to ride out to the pond for a swim.”

 

“I’m not thinking that far ahead,” Chris replied with a gleam in his eye.  “Now that I’ve got you back in my bed, and with fresh breath and everything, I’m in no hurry to get up.”

 

“No argument here,” I said, snuggling closer.

 

An hour later, we were still in bed, trading lazy kisses.  I would have been perfectly content to stay there all day, doing exactly what we were doing. Eventually, though, Chris ended up on top of me, and began rocking his hips down against mine. It felt amazing, but I was worried that he was trying to push himself into something he thought I wanted.

 

I pulled away from our kiss, but before I could say anything, Chris reassured me.  “It’s okay.  I’m ready for this.  And I know that, if at any point I feel like it’s too much, I can just tell you and we’ll stop. So don’t worry, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Chris brought our lips back together. I smiled into the kiss, feeling his answering grin.  As Chris gently sucked on my lower lip, I moaned, bringing one hand to his ass, and shifting slightly so that I could pull our hips more tightly together. Chris thrust down, and I arched up to meet him. 

 

It felt incredible, Chris’s hard length against my own. Knowing that he was as turned on as I was magnified every sensation, until I felt ready to burst with the pleasure of it all.  And then I did. And Chris was right there with me, crying out and stiffening and shuddering in my arms. 

 

I barely had time to process what had happened before Chris collapsed on top of me, laughing.

 

“What’s so funny?”

 

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t know, it just struck me as funny.”

 

I looked at him, then burst out laughing, too. I still didn’t know what was so funny, but I was overflowing with joy, and laughter seemed as good a way as any to let it spill out. 

 

Soon Chris and I were rolling around together on the bed, giggling uncontrollably.  The lyrics to an old Elton John song popped into my head: _“Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder under the covers…”_  

 

But this felt nothing like the blues. I was over-the-rainbow in love, and I had all the time in the world to spend with Chris.

 

 

An hour later, we were both still feeling a little giddy as we stood in the empty dining hall.  “Looks like we missed breakfast,” I observed cheerfully. “Want me to make you some French toast?”

 

“That sounds great.”

 

Chris followed me into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching as I gathered the ingredients.  Once I started cooking, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as I flipped the French toast.

 

“You’re really good at that,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck.

 

“Someone’s feeling friendly this morning,” drawled Robert’s voice from behind us.

 

“I just really like French toast,” Chris said, dropping his arms and taking a step backwards.  He was obviously trying to sound casual, but failing miserably.

 

“I can make more, if you’re hungry,” I told Robert, figuring food would be a good distraction and/or bribe.

 

“No, that’s okay, I just came in to grab a snack to take out on the trail,” he said, taking a couple of apples out of the bowl on the counter and giving us a knowing look before heading back out of the kitchen.

 

“Do you think he suspects?” I asked.

 

“He’d have to be blind not to.  Do you think he’ll say anything?”

 

“I don’t know, and right now, I don’t care. Breakfast is served!”

 

 

After breakfast, we made ourselves a picnic lunch. It was a little too cool to go swimming, so we saddled up our horses and headed out on a sunny trail along the ridge.  When we reached a spot with a lovely view out over the canyon, we stopped to eat.

 

After we’d been munching in companionable silence for a few minutes, Chris turned to me and asked, “What do you think counts as losing your virginity?”

 

“What do you mean?”  


“Well, you know, for straight guys it’s the whole penis-in-vagina thing that they teach you about in health class. But if you’re gay, there’s obviously no vagina involved.”

 

I snorted.  “Obviously.”

 

“So, what counts as sex?  Do blowjobs count?  Or does it have to be anal sex?  Or is it just any time two people have an orgasm together, or what?”

 

I considered his question for a moment. Because, for me, that morning totally counted as sex – the most mind-blowing sex I’d ever had. But I also planned on having even more mind-blowing sex with Chris in the future.  I could already picture dozens of things I’d love to try, and I was sure that there were dozens more that I hadn’t even thought of yet. 

 

So, on the one hand, what had happened between us that morning felt hugely significant, and on the other hand, it didn’t seem like a more cut-and-dried dividing line than any of our other firsts: the first time we kissed, the first time I told him I loved him, the first time he let me spend the night in his bed…  Every first was special, and there were so many more first-times I wanted to share with him.

 

I finally came to a conclusion.  “I think everything counts.”

 

“So, does that mean we just lost our virginities together this morning?”

 

“Well, I guess you get to define that for yourself. For me, I’d say yes, I feel like I lost my virginity with you this morning.  But that’s just one kind of virginity.”

 

“What do you mean?”  


“Well, I feel like any time two people experience something together that they’ve never done before, then they’re losing their virginity to each other.”

 

“So then every time we try something new, we lose our virginity all over again?”

 

“Yeah.  Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

 

“I don’t know,” Chris teased.  “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m easy.”

 

Never one to pass up a possible song cue, I broke into the chorus of “Easy Like Sunday Morning.”

 

Chris pretended to roll his eyes, then bumped our shoulders together and joined in. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” by Elton John - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o6Rph1l14p0&feature=youtu.be&t=1m11s and “Easy Like Sunday Morning” by Lionel Richie - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_asMPnujP4&feature=youtu.be&t=45s
> 
> You may have noticed that I didn’t follow up on what Robert saw in the kitchen. I’ve got some ideas about how I want to work that into the next chapter, along with some new (and fun for all of you Starkids out there) material. So stay tuned. :D


	15. "Wait - That Was Supposed To Be a Secret?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapters 14 and 15 of As a White Knight on His Steed

When we returned to the main camp that afternoon, Chris was nervous about running into Robert, worried that our little display of affection in the kitchen that morning had too obviously gone beyond our usual closeness, and that Robert would call us out on it.  Or, worse yet, that he’d say something to David and Ryan.

 

I thought we had nothing to be concerned about, but Chris suggested that we should play it safe by keeping our distance from each other around camp.  Which, considering what a smart guy he is, seemed like a pretty dumb idea. But, although I may be a blurter, I _do_ know better than to tell my boyfriend he’s being stupid.  So I took a more tactful approach.

 

“Baby, remember what happened right after we started doing this,” I gave him a little kiss, just in case it wasn’t clear what _‘this’_ meant, “and we were trying to hide it from everyone?”

 

Chris made a little humming sound, but I couldn’t tell whether he was thinking about my words or just focusing on the kiss. For once, I was more interested in making my point than in making out, though, so I kept going.

 

“You told me that Mark pulled you aside and asked if we were having a fight, ‘cause he’d noticed that we hadn’t been holding hands under the table anymore.”

 

Chris nodded.

 

“Well, I figure the best way to fly under the radar is to keep acting like our normal selves.  I mean, most of these people have known us since we were eight. We’ve always been super-affectionate with each other, and if something changed now, they’d wonder why. In fact, it might tip them off to exactly what’s going on.”

 

“You think that being less lovey-dovey around camp is going to make people realize we’re in a relationship?  Why?”

 

“Well, maybe not exactly.  But they’ll either think we’re mad at each other, or they’ll figure out that something else is going on.  ‘Cause you know how, in elementary school, when a boy started picking on a girl and teasing her, it was usually because he liked her?”

 

Chris ruffled my hair.  “I’ll bet you were never like that.”

 

“Well, I never liked any of the girls that way. But you’re right, I probably wouldn’t have been a jerk about it if I did.  After all, I had a huge crush on _you_ for all of those years, and I just followed you around like a puppy. But I might have acted differently if I was trying to hide it.  Like, I’m convinced that Draco had a secret crush on Hermione, and that’s why he was always calling her a ‘mud-blood’ and treating her like shit, so no one would figure it out.”

 

Chris snorted, but I was warming to my theme.

 

“Come to think of it, I’ll bet that was one of the reasons why you got bullied so much at school.  I’ll bet most of those boys secretly had crushes on you.”

 

“Yeah, right,” Chris said sarcastically.

 

“No, I’m serious.  I don’t think you realize how supermegafoxyawesomehot you are.”

 

Chris raised one eyebrow at me skeptically, like he thought I was just making up words and didn’t know what the fuck I was taking about.

 

“Hey – I said it, I meant it, and I’ll say it again. You. Are. Super. Mega. Foxy. Awesome. Hot.”  I punctuated each word with a kiss, and by the time I got to “hot” he was smiling, even if he still looked a little dubious.

 

“All of those boys, who probably assumed they were straight, must have been freaking the fuck out over how attracted to you they were. And they didn’t know how to handle it other than by acting like assholes.” 

 

Chris got a pensive look on his face, and I hoped I hadn’t upset him by bringing up painful memories.  When he spoke, though, it wasn’t about the bullying he’d experienced.

 

“I guess I kind of did the same thing to you,” he said sadly, squeezing my hand, “pushing you away because I was afraid of my feelings for you.  I’m really sorry.”

 

“Oh, Chris,” I cried, wrapping him in my arms and holding him close.  “Baby, please don’t feel bad about that.  You were scared, and I was oblivious, and we were both idiots, but that’s all in the past.  I wish we could have been closer when we were in middle school and high school, but we’re together now, and that’s what matters, right?”

 

“Right,” Chris agreed, hugging me more tightly. “I really do love you, you know.”

 

“I know.  I love you, too.  And I don’t care who knows it.”

 

“Well, you might not care who knows we love each other, but I _do_ care who knows we’re having sex.  And at this point, I hope it’s just you and me.  ‘Cause if Robert figured it out and says something to Ryan and David, I’m afraid there’s going to be trouble.”

 

“Robert’s cool.  I don’t think he’s going to say anything.  And even if he did, what did he really see? Just a kiss.  It’s not like we were humping each other in front of the campers.”

 

“Darren!  _No!_   Way to take all of the romance out of our relationship!”  Chris tried to sound scandalized, but I could tell he was struggling not to laugh.

 

 

For most of the week, it seemed as if I was right, and that Chris’s fears were groundless.  But after dinner on Friday, Ryan and David asked if they could talk to us.

 

Uh oh.  As we followed them up the stairs of the old farmhouse to the second story, where the camp’s owners (first Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa, and now David and Ryan) lived, I wondered if the shit was about to hit the fan.   

 

“Don’t worry,” Ryan said, apparently sensing our nervousness, “you’re not in trouble.”

 

“We just wanted to ask you about something that Robert mentioned,” David added.

 

“Um,” Chris began, looking at me frantically, seeming to be at a loss for words.

 

I stepped forward, grabbing Chris’s hand. “It’s true that we’re a couple,” I said, pleasantly surprised at how sure of myself I sounded. “I hope that’s not a problem for you.”

 

“Relax,” Ryan said.  “We told you you’re not in trouble.  I just wish you’d felt like you could share this with us.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Chris said, finally finding his voice. “We were afraid that you’d think it might interfere with our work.  Which I _promise_ you it won’t.”

 

“We’re not worried about that,” David said. “Being a couple has never interfered with _our_ ability to work together.”

 

“Wait – what?!  You guys are a couple?!?” I blurted.  I guess my days of being Captain Oblivious weren’t over yet.

 

“Yes,” said Ryan, smiling.  “The older staff members – Robert, Zach, Ian, and Brad, who’ve known us since we were kids – have always known. And we haven’t gone out of our way to hide our relationship from anyone else.  It’s just that we’ve always followed the example set by Uncle Mike and Aunt Lisa.  They never engaged in public displays of affection, and in fact lots of the boys never knew whether they were husband and wife or brother and sister.  We just figured that, working with kids, it was best to keep our private lives private.”

 

“We can totally do that,” I assured him, and Chris nodded his head in agreement.

 

“Good,” said David.  “Now, while you’re up here, would you like us to give you a tour?”

 

“That would be great.”

 

As they showed us around, I thought back to how Chris had mentioned Ryan and David a couple of weeks ago as people who were role models for him.  Now – seeing this home that they’d created, and realizing how long they’d been together – I decided that I was glad to have them as my role models, too.

 

…

 

Coming out to Ryan and David about our relationship felt so good that Chris and I were excited to let the rest of the staff know, too. Everyone was totally supportive, as I’d known they would be.  My favorite reaction, though, had to be Cory’s:  “Wait – you mean that was supposed to be a secret? I thought everyone already knew.”

 

Before long, the only folks left to tell were my parents.  I called them up, and as soon as my mom put me on speakerphone so they both could hear, I blurted out, “Guess what?  Chris and I have fallen in love!”

 

There was a beat of silence before my dad asked, “You mean, with each other?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well that’s great, honey!” my mom gushed. “We’re so happy for you! Right, Bill?”

 

“Oh, yes, of course,” my dad said, sounding a little dazed.  “I’m sorry, you just took me by surprise for a moment, there.  I didn’t realize you were gay.”

 

“I know.  Neither did I,” I laughed.  “But I am, and so’s Chris, and we’re madly in love with each other. And guess what else? He’s going to Michigan in the fall, too!  Isn’t that amazing?”

 

“Well, people do always say it’s a small world,” my dad said, starting to sound a bit more like himself.

 

“We haven’t seen Chris since you boys were twelve years old,” my mom said.  “It’s hard for me to picture him all grown up.”

 

“Chuck’s band is performing at a coffeehouse next Saturday night.  You should bring Chris up with you for the weekend so we can get reacquainted,” my dad suggested.

 

“That would be perfect!  I know you’re going to love him!”

 

“If you love him, honey, I’m sure we will too,” my mom agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out this video of Darren and Nick Lang talking about Draco being mean to Hermione because he has a crush on her: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D5U9EIVvCOA&feature=youtu.be&t=1m1s  
> And here’s a fun version of Darren singing “Granger Danger” with a friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sv_LlMx4Hps


	16. "We've Never Done Anything Like That Before"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on chapters 16 and 17 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I was super-excited to bring Chris home with me the next weekend.  There was something about being out in the world together, away from camp, that made our relationship seem much more real.  Not that it had felt _unreal_ up until that point, exactly, but there was something so magical, and so insular, about camp life, that it was difficult to imagine how things would translate to the outside world. 

 

I mean, Chris and I had literally never seen each other anyplace else.  And that little piece of me that would never outgrow magical thinking couldn’t help but wonder whether Chris even _existed_ in the real world.  Because, honestly, he seemed too good to be true.

 

So, as I drove away from camp, I steered carefully with one hand, holding on tightly to Chris with the other.  Just in case.

 

I needn’t have worried, though.  As we cruised up Highway 1, instead of vanishing like an enchanted wood nymph, he stayed right next to me where he belonged – just as beautiful, just as perfect, just as _mine_ as ever.

 

I couldn’t wait to re-introduce Chris – now starring in his new role as my boyfriend – to my parents.  The closer we got to my house, though, the more I could feel him tensing up.

 

“Relax,” I told him, squeezing his hand, as I parked at the curb.  “They’re going to love you.  Because I love you. And because how could anybody possibly _not_ love you?  Have you _met_ you? You’re totally loveable!”

 

Chris squeezed back, smiling.  “Okay,” he said.  “Let’s do this.”

 

We grabbed our bags full of dirty laundry from the trunk, and then I let us in with my key.  “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” I called out.

 

When there was no answer, I walked into the kitchen and found a note on the table.

 

“My parents had to go to one of their charity things,” I told Chris.  “They’ll be back between 4:30 and 5:00.  So it looks like we’ve got the house to ourselves for a couple of hours.”

 

Chris let out a sigh of relief, apparently still not completely convinced that my parents were going to love him. Which they totally were. But instead of trying to convince him, I decided to take advantage of the fact that we were on our own for the rest of the afternoon.  

 

 “C’mon,” I said, “let me show you my room.”

 

Chris followed me up the stairs, and we were in my doorway before I remembered that I’d been in a bit of a hurry when I’d left at the beginning of the summer.

 

“Oops, sorry about the mess,” I said, gathering up stray clothing and tossing it into my dresser, then pushing the drawers closed with one hip.  “I didn’t realize I was going to be having company.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris said. “I’m not your mother.”

 

“Nope.  If you were, you wouldn’t be allowed in my room,” I joked.

 

Chris wandered over to a corkboard on one wall and stood looking at an old photo of the two of us, arms around each other, laughing into the camera.  “Where’d you get this?” he asked.

 

I wrapped my arms around him from behind. “My mom took that at the beginning of the summer when we were twelve.  I’ve always loved that picture.  It reminds me how happy we were to see each other again after having been apart all year.”

 

“I always missed you so much,” Chris said. “I lived for your letters.”

 

“Me too.  I kept every one you ever wrote me.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, wanna see?”

 

I opened my closet and pulled a box off of the top shelf.  Inside were hundreds of envelopes, some addressed in childish printing, some in loopy cursive, and the most recent in the hybrid combination of the two that Chris had settled into as a teenager.   

 

“I’m really sorry I stopped writing so often when we got older,” Chris said with a little catch in his voice.

 

“Hey, it’s okay.  We’ve talked about all that, and I understand.”

 

Chris draped his wrists loosely around my neck. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

 

“I love you, too,” I said, tipping my head for a kiss. “You know,” I added, pulling back slightly, “my parents won’t be home for a couple of hours yet. Do you think I could talk you into taking a shower with me?”

 

“Hmmm…. We’ve never done anything like that before.”

 

“Nope.  We’re shower virgins.”

 

“So this is another one of those ‘losing our virginities together’ moments that you were talking about?”

 

“Yep.  If you want it to be, that is.”

 

Chris hesitated for a moment, and I was just preparing to suggest that we go downstairs and bake some cookies instead, when he surprised me by saying, “I’d like that.”

 

I’m sure I was beaming like a ten-thousand-watt idiot as I took his hand and led him down the hallway, stopping at a closet to gather a couple of fluffy cotton towels and washcloths.

 

Once we reached the bathroom, I stripped and turned on the water, testing the temperature with one hand.  I was thrilled that Chris was finally feeling comfortable enough to get naked with me, and I didn’t want to make him self-conscious by staring at him while he took his clothes off, so I focused on the shower instead.  “Look – we’ve got this cool rainforest showerhead,” I pointed out.

 

“It looks great, Dare,” Chris agreed, giving me one of those indulgent smiles that said _you are the world’s biggest nerd and I find you adorable_.  Which made me feel like the world’s _luckiest_ nerd.

 

I stepped into the shower, holding out my hand to help Chris in after me, making sure to keep my eyes on his face.  Chris, however, seemed to have no such scruples. _Busted._

 

“You were totally just checking me out, weren’t you?”

 

Chris grinned back at me.  “Maybe.”

 

“Well?”

 

“Well, what?”

 

“Do I pass inspection?”  


“You’ll do,” Chris drawled nonchalantly.

 

I flicked a washcloth at him.  “You are such a brat!”

 

“Hey!” Chris said, grabbing the washcloth and wrapping it around the back of my neck, drawing me in closer, “you’d better behave yourself if you want to have any chance of getting lucky here, mister.”

 

“Oh my god,” I said, feeling suddenly dizzy. “Are you serious? I thought I was lucky enough just getting you to agree to a platonic shower together.  You mean we’re actually going to get to _do_ stuff, too?”

 

“We’ll see,” Chris replied coyly.

 

“Okay, well, now you’re just a brat _and_ a tease.”

 

“Admit it – you love it.”

 

In an instant, my mood changed from playful to serious. “I do love it. And I love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Chris said, pulling me in for a kiss.  Then he got a gleam in his eyes.  “If you wash my back, I’ll wash yours,” he offered.

 

I had no idea where this uncharacteristic flirtatiousness was coming from, but I was not going to question it.  I grabbed a bottle of orange-scented bath gel and lathered up a washcloth.  “Turn around,” I told him.

 

Chris was quick to comply.  I began at his shoulders, rubbing circles with the soapy washcloth before gradually working my way lower.  Chris leaned into my touch, and I wanted nothing more than to run my hands over his entire body.  I thought I’d better not push my luck, though, so I stopped when I reached his lower back and handed over the washcloth.  “Your turn to do me,” I said.

 

We turned around under the gently falling water, and Chris added a little more bath gel to the washcloth before beginning to stroke it up and down my back.

 

I hummed contentedly, and Chris stepped closer, pulling the washcloth out from between us.  He reached around, holding me against him with one arm while running the washcloth across my chest.  His naked body was pressed up against my back, and I could clearly feel that he was getting just as turned on as I was.

 

Setting the washcloth aside, Chris began running his fingertips along my collarbones, then down over my pecs, before tracing around my nipples.  I shuddered against him, breath hitching.

 

“Is this okay?” Chris asked.

 

Well, that had to be the dumb-ass stupid question of the century.  I mean, what did he think I was going to say?  _Um, nah, I don’t really enjoy being lathered and fondled in the shower by my incredibly hot boyfriend…_   But before I could tease him about it, Chris slipped his hand a little lower, and I groaned instead.

 

“This is _so_ okay,” I breathed, leaning my head back onto his shoulder.  Chris kissed my outstretched neck, allowing his hands to continue their exploration.

 

As he gradually worked his way lower, I could feel my muscles quivering under his touch, my breath becoming ragged, little moans slipping from my throat.  When he finally took my cock in his hand and began slowly pumping up and down, I couldn’t help gasping, “Oh my god, please don’t stop!”

 

Chris stroked faster, clutching me hard against his chest.  I thrust forward into his hand, my hips stuttering as I came.  Chris stroked me through my orgasm before gently turning me around and pulling me into an embrace.

 

I half-collapsed against him, knees giving out, and Chris staggered a little, supporting my weight.  He kissed the side of my face where it was buried against his shoulder.  I took a few more shuddering breaths before tipping my head to return the kisses.

 

“That was unbelievable,” I breathed. “ _Please_ let me return the favor.”

 

Chris smiled.  “Well, since you asked nicely…”

 

I kept one arm around him, stepping back slightly to give myself room to run my other hand down his belly to his cock. I marveled at the texture, the skin as velvety soft as a foal’s muzzle.  I gave a few experimental tugs before swiping my thumb over the head. Chris let out the sexiest little noise I had ever heard, and I quickened the pace with my hand, bringing our lips back together and kissing him deeply.

 

Chris clung to me, and I could feel him pulsing in my hand as he came, crying out into my mouth.  I think we both probably blacked out for a moment. When the world came back into focus, Chris was glowing. 

 

“Unbelievable,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 16 of As a White Knight on His Steed ended with the boys in the shower, right before things started heating up. Apparently I’ve gotten kinder as I’ve gotten older, though, so I decided to dispense with the teasing and combine chapters 16 and 17 into one. You’re welcome. ;D


	17. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 18 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Have I mentioned (once, or twice, or twenty times) how everything was more fun when Chris was around?  Well, laundry was no exception.  There was something about the domesticity of it that I really loved.  It felt so grown up, one minute, and then like we were little kids playing house the next.

 

Once the wash cycle was done, I tossed our clothes in the dryer, then fumbled with the controls, wondering once again about my mom’s strange reluctance to get rid of that old relic and replace it with something that actually worked. 

 

“Which setting should we choose,” I asked Chris, “ _damp_ or _burnt_?”

 

Chris arched one eyebrow at me.  “I take it that dryer’s trouble, huh?”

 

“Oh, yeah.  I don't want to see you hanging out with this dryer. This is a bad, _bad_ dryer!”

 

Chris snorted.  “Oh, I see.  So, has it been a bad influence on you, then?  Is that where you learned how to be too _hot_ for your own good?”

 

“You know it!” I teased back, wiggling my butt at him as I turned the dryer on.

 

Chris slapped my ass playfully, then stepped forward and pressed me against the now vibrating dryer.  Oh.  My. God.  Why had I never thought to try that? I gasped, torn between leaning into the dryer and wriggling back against my boyfriend, who’d apparently been possessed by some sort of flirty sex-monster.

 

Chris made the decision for me, though, stepping back and spinning me around to face him.  “Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the laundry room. “If you spend any more time with that dryer, I’m going to get jealous.”

 

Well, I wasn’t too reluctant to be dragged off to the living room, especially since once we got there we ended up making out on the sofa.  Which was totally awesome, until my parents showed up.  And even _that_ was totally awesome, ‘cause of course I’d been right about them loving Chris.

 

Once we got past the “Chris being nervous about meeting my parents” part, though, _I_ started to feel nervous about what I had planned for later that night. ‘Cause I’d been working on a song for Chris, and I was finally going to sing it for him.

 

I’d been writing songs pretty much all my life, starting with little ditties when I was a kid, along the lines of:

_Jingle bells, the farmer tells_

_Dirty jokes all day –_

_Like “The pig fell in the mud_

_When the chicken laid an egg!”_

 

But I’d never written a song _for_ someone before.  It began kind of accidentally, like most of my songs, and very tongue-in-cheek, also like most of my songs.  As I was taking a shower one evening, my usual stream-of-consciousness singing _(I’m using the soap… Now I’m using the shampooooooo…)_ morphed into:

_I would kick a goal for Christopher Colfer,_

_I would dig a hole for Christopher Colfer,_

_I would pay a toll for Christopher Colfer,_

_I would rock and roll for Christopher Colfer,_

_I'd dance on a pole for Christopher Colfer,_

_Yes, I would sell my soul for Christopher Colfer..._

 

Not Grammy material, obviously, but it had a catchy tune, and it quickly became my go-to shower song.

 

But then something Chris said to me one day stuck in my head and developed its own melody, and suddenly the song I was working on was _serious_.  Which was kind of scary.  ‘Cause all kidding aside, music to me is the sound of meaning, it’s the embodiment of things you can’t put into words.  And yet I _had_ put my feelings – or at least, some of my feelings – about Chris into words.

 

So that night, at Chuck’s gig, I only had half of my attention focused on how fantastic my big brother’s band sounded, while the other half of me was running through the song I’d written in my head, praying I wouldn’t forget the lyrics.

 

As soon as the rest of the Freelance Whale took a break, Chuck invited me to come up and sing with him, like I knew he would, and my parents made a big deal of encouraging me to go for it, like they always do.  I love how proud of both of us they always are, but sometimes they do go a little overboard. Before I left the table, I whispered to Chris, “If you hear any screaming girls… it’s probably my father.”

 

He laughed and gave me a little push toward the stage.

 

Chuck and I launched into “New Morning,” which we’d been singing together since we were kids.  Harmonizing with him is one of my most favorite things in the entire world, and it was just what I needed to steady my nerves.

 

Once the song ended, and the applause died away, I whispered, “Is it okay if I do a solo number?”

 

Chuck nodded, and told the audience, “Before the Freelance Whales come back on, I’m going to turn the stage over to Darren for one more song.”

 

I sat down at the keyboard, thinking _this is going to be the most crazy, romantic thing I've ever done in my life! This is going to be amazing! We're gonna run off and love each other forever and ever until we DIE!_ I took a deep breath and announced, “This is a song I wrote for my boyfriend, Chris.  It’s called ‘Not Alone.’”

 

And then I just sang my heart out.

 

_I've been alone_

_Surrounded by darkness_

_And I've seen how heartless_

_The world can be_

_And I've seen you crying_

_You felt like it's hopeless_

_I'll always do my best_

_To make you see_

_Baby, you're not alone_

_Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you_

_And you know it's true_

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through_

_Now I know it ain't easy_

_But it ain't hard trying_

_Every time I see you smiling_

_And I feel you so close to me_

_And you tell me_

_Baby, you're not alone_

_Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you_

_And you know it's true_

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through_

_I still have trouble_

_I trip and stumble_

_Trying to make sense of things sometimes_

_I look for reasons_

_But I don't need 'em_

_All I need is to look in your eyes_

_And I realize_

_Baby I'm not alone_

_Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you_

_And you know it's true_

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through_

 

As the last note faded away, I rose and moved toward Chris.  He rushed to meet me halfway, flinging his arms around me. That hug was like all kinds of love explosions.

 

Leaning his head on my shoulder, Chris whispered, “I’m so glad I’m not alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s warning about the dryer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pRubvckRDnU&feature=youtu.be&t=10s 
> 
> Darren’s comment about his dad screaming like a fangirl: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UscnS1LHbg8&feature=youtu.be&t=1m54s
> 
> Did you recognize any other Darren quotes? There are at least 5 more that I snuck in here, and whoever finds the most wins! (But no fair waiting until other people comment and then copying their answers.) ;D


	18. "Eventually - I Can Work With That"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 19 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I was on such a high after singing for Chris that I think the only thing that kept me from simply floating away was his hand in mine, anchoring me to the earth. 

 

As soon as we got back to my house, my mom said, “Well, we’ve had a long day, and I know that you boys have, too. Is there anything you need before we head up to bed?”

 

“No, that’s okay, but thanks, Mom.  I’ll just make sure that Chris is settled into the guest room, and then I’ll be right behind you,” I replied innocently.

 

Chris said goodnight to my parents, who headed upstairs.  Once they were out of earshot, I whispered, “I’ll just give them a minute to get into their room and shut the door, and then I’ll go on up and sneak right back down. Wait for me in the guest room.”

 

I went up to my room, making sure to tromp loudly on the stairs so my mom and dad would hear me.  When I snuck back down, I was in ninja-stealth mode, tiptoeing all the way back to the guest bedroom.

 

 “I changed into my pajamas and left my room again before I shut the door, so my parents would only hear it open and close one time,” I told Chris.  “And I was super quiet on the way down. They have no idea I’m in here with you.  And their bedroom is on the far side of the house, so we don’t have to worry about them hearing us.”

 

“They’ve been so nice to me; I feel a little guilty about deceiving them like this,” Chris said, with a slight frown.

 

“ _You’re_ not deceiving them.  You’re right where they told you to be.  I’m the one who’s sneaking around, and if it doesn’t bother me, then it doesn’t need to bother you.  Besides, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to sleep in an actual double bed with you.”

 

“Well, good.  ‘Cause I would’ve been lonely down here without you. Even when we don’t sleep in the same bed, I always like knowing you’re there in the room with me.”

 

“Baby, you’re not alone,” I sang.

 

Chris pulled me down onto the bed.  “That song was incredible.  I can’t believe you wrote that.  When did you even have time?”

 

I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing our noses together and giving him a quick kiss before responding.  “I worked on it every night while you were in the shower.  And on Thursday evenings, when you had to go to the campfire and I didn’t.”

 

“But you don’t even have a keyboard at camp.”

 

“I know.  I wrote it on the guitar, but I thought it would sound better on piano. The chords are exactly the same, so I thought I’d give it a try on the keyboard tonight.”

 

“Do you have any idea how amazingly talented you are?”

 

“You’re just saying that because I let you have your way with me earlier,” I teased.

 

Chris blushed, but came back with “I seem to remember letting you have your way with me, too.”

 

“Well, then I guess _you_ are amazingly talented as well.”

 

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

 

“Really?” I asked, a million enticing scenarios flooding my brain.

 

“Eventually.  But not tonight, and certainly not in your parents’ house while they’re asleep upstairs.”

 

“Eventually…  I can work with that.”

 

…

 

We slept in the next morning, finally waking up to the sounds and scents of breakfast being prepared.

 

“Shit!” I whispered.  “I thought I’d be up before my parents.  I don’t want them to know I slept in here last night.”

 

Chris rolled out of bed and hurriedly got dressed. Grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his bag, he tossed them to me.  “Here, put these on and pretend you’ve been up for hours.”

 

I kinda loved it when Chris got bossy, so I did as I was told.  As soon as I got to the kitchen, I gave my mom a hug.

 

“Good morning, Sweetheart,” she said. “How long have you been up? I didn’t even hear you come down the stairs.”

 

“Oh, you know, Chris and I are used to getting up at 6 every morning to round up the horses,” I said, which wasn’t actually a lie.

 

My mom turned to the doorway, where Chris was standing awkwardly.  “Good morning, Chris.  How did you sleep?”

 

“Really well, thanks.  The bed in your guest room is very comfortable.”

 

“I’m glad.  Well, if you boys want to set the table and put out some orange juice, breakfast is almost ready.”

 

 _Whew!_ So we’d pulled that one off…

 

…

 

Later that morning, heading back down Highway 1, I couldn’t wait to show Chris the tide pools at Fitzgerald Marine Reserve. I’d checked online before we left, and discovered that the sun and the moon and the earth were all lined up perfectly for our visit.  ‘Cause the universe loves us and wants us to be happy.

 

“Do you have any idea how lucky we are that there’s a minus tide so close to noon?” I asked Chris.

 

“Actually, I don’t.  I have no idea what you’re even talking about.  But I can tell by the way you’re bouncing in your seat that it’s pretty exciting.”

 

“Pretty exciting doesn’t even begin to describe it. In fact, it’s indescribable. You’ll just have to see for yourself,” I told him, pulling into the parking lot.  “Come on!” 

 

I took Chris’s hand and led him down a short, steep trail to the beach.  The ocean was lovely, of course, but at first glance the beach wasn’t much to look at. Once we stepped out onto the partially exposed rocks, however, the tide pools came into view. One look at the wonder on Chris’s face, and I knew I’d done the right thing in bringing him here.

 

If I ever had to write a personal ad (which, thank god, I _won’t_ – since Chris and I will be together forever – but if I _did_ ) it would say something along the lines of _I'm_[ _Darren_](http://chatterbusy.blogspot.gr/2013/07/cory-monteiths-death-cheered-by.html) _: I like beaches, sushi, and small animals who are nice_. This place definitely had the first and the last, and I suppose it also had all of the ingredients for the one in the middle, so I figured I’d hit the great-place-for-a-date trifecta.  

 

Chris spotted a starfish, and squatted down to take a closer look.

 

“Is it okay to touch them?” he asked.

 

“Yeah.  Watch what happens if you stick your finger in a sea anemone,” I said, demonstrating.

 

“Oooh – did it sting you?”

 

“No, it just feels tingly, and like it’s sucking on your finger.  Here, try it.”

 

Chris reached out a tentative finger, and gasped when the anemone sucked it in.  “Wow! That’s kind of freaky.”

 

I tugged on his hand.  “Look, there’s a rainbow chiton!”

 

Soon we were pulling each other from rock to rock, peering down into each pool and exclaiming over what we discovered.

 

“Come on,” I said, after we’d seen all of the crabs, sculpins, mussels, and hermit crabs that lived in the pools by the shore. “The tide’s low enough that we can get out to the sea urchin beds.”

 

I took Chris’s hand, and we ventured further out on the slippery rocks, helping each other across the wider chasms. At the outer edge of the rocks we found the sea urchins, waving their deep purple spikes in the current.

 

As we were making our way back toward the shore, Chris stopped short and pointed excitedly.  “Dare – look – an octopus!”

 

“Where?  Oh, wow, that’s so cool!  I’ve never seen one here before.”

 

“So I guess we’re losing our octopus virginities together today, huh?”

 

I brought our linked hands to my lips, brushing a kiss across Chris’s knuckles.  “God, I love you.”

 

And I did.  I always did.  But what I loved the most about him, in that moment, was how connected to him I felt with every part of myself: the romantic part, that wrote “Not Alone” and sang it for him in front of an entire café full of strangers; the horny part, that couldn’t wait for “eventually” to come around so we could try _everything_ ; and the silly, little-kid part, that had me bouncing around with delight over having seen an octopus.

 

Have I mentioned that I’m kind of a goofball? (Yeah, I know, I didn’t really have to mention it, ‘cause it’s sort of obvious.)  Well, sometimes I’d pretend to be an octopus.  And most people would be like, ‘Darren what’re you doing?’ And I’d just sit there and laugh, because they weren’t cool enough to be an octopus, and I’d just be like, ‘Hah! You’re just jealous because you’re not an octopus.’ 

 

But Chris totally _was_ cool enough to be an octopus.  In fact, he was cool enough to be a giant, rainbow octopus from the Andromeda Galaxy. 

 

And I _loved_ how much fun it was to hang out with Chris and just be goofballs – losing our octopus virginity – together.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun playing “Find the Darren Quotes” in the last chapter. In case you’re curious, here are the things he actually said (some of which I modified slightly for this story). “I don't want to see you hanging out with this dryer. This is a bad, bad dryer!” “Totally awesome” “I’m using the soap… Now I’m using the shampooooooo…” “Music to me is the sound of meaning, it’s the embodiment of things you can’t put into words.” “If you hear any screaming girls… it’s probably my father.” “This is going to be the most crazy, romantic thing I've ever done in my life! This is going to be amazing! We're gonna run off and love each other forever and ever until we DIE!” “That hug was like all kinds of love explosions.” And, of course, all of the lyrics to “Not Alone.”  
> There are three additional quotes in this chapter, one of which can be found at this link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ceGi5DQSKw&feature=youtu.be&t=4m30s


	19. "Best Boyfriend Ever"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapters 19 and 20 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Back in the car, heading south, Chris asked, “Do you know how to play Encore?”

 

“You mean that board game where you try to sing songs with the words on the cards?”

 

“Well, yeah, but you don’t need the board or the cards. You can just take turns coming up with words.  And then you go back and forth until one person can’t come up with any more songs with that word in the lyrics, and the other person wins that round.”

 

“Oh, I’m going to be _awesome_ at this game!”

 

“Do I sense a challenge?”

 

“Yeah.  And the loser has to give the winner a backrub,” I said, figuring I had this in the bag.  After all, I grew up singing American Songbook standards, I know every Disney song ever written, and I have an unabashed adoration of cheesy pop music.

 

“You’re on,” Chris declared, sounding just as confident as I felt.

 

“Can I say the first word?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Okay.  Rain.”

 

Chris led off with “Singing in the Rain.” I joined in, and then followed up with the chorus of “Fire and Rain.”  We went back and forth, mile after mile, singing song after song – and do you have any idea how many songs have the word “rain” in their lyrics? – until finally Chris had to admit that he couldn’t come up with any more.

 

“My turn to pick a word,” he said.  “Moon.”

 

“Oooh, that’s a good one,” I told him, launching into a rousing version of “Bad Moon Rising.”

 

Chris came back with “That’s Amore,” and I countered with “Blue Moon.”  Once again, we came up with about a gazillion songs, but eventually I had to concede.

 

“We’re almost there,” I said.  “Let’s just do one more word as the tie-breaker. It’s my turn to choose. Are proper names allowed?”

 

“Yeah, so long as they’re in enough songs to make it interesting.  Don’t say Ursula, or something.”

 

“Okay.  Let’s do Jesus.”

 

“No fair.  You went to Catholic school.  You’re bound to know way more songs about Jesus than I do.”

 

Well, all of those years of Catholic school may not have helped me figure out I was gay, but now that I knew, I’d be damned if I didn’t use them to help me get a backrub from my boyfriend.  “Hey, I didn’t make the rules,” I told him. “You said proper names are okay.”

 

“Fine,” Chris huffed, and started singing “Jesus Christ, Superstar.”

 

He put up a good fight, but it was pretty quickly apparent that there was no way he was going to beat me.

 

“Yay!” I cheered, as we turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to camp.  “I’m getting a backrub tonight!”

 

…

 

That evening, after my shower, I came out of the bathroom to find Chris, dressed in his pajamas, sitting on his bunk. “C’mere,” he said, patting the bed.  “I seem to remember you won our little bet this afternoon, and I guess it’s time for me to pay up.”

 

I tossed my towel casually over the back of a chair – figuring that would be okay, since we’d been naked in the shower together at my parents’ house - and flopped down on my stomach. 

 

“The thrill of victory,” I gloated.

 

“More like the thrill of being a cheater,” Chris shot back.

 

“You said proper names were allowed. It’s not my fault you’re a heathen.”

 

“Hey!  Look who’s talking!  I’m not the one who lied to my mother.  And on a Sunday, too.”

 

“I didn’t lie to her.  I may have misled her a little bit, but everything I said was true.”

 

“Now you’re just arguing semantics. I was a Speech and Debate champion in high school, Darren.  You’re not going to win this one.”

 

“But I _am_ going to get a backrub, right?”

 

“Yes,” Chris relented, “you _are_ going to get a backrub, even if you don’t really deserve one.  And do you know why?”

 

“Cause you’re the best boyfriend ever?”  


“Got it in one.”

 

Chris straddled my waist and brought his hands to my shoulders, beginning to knead.  I let out a sigh and relaxed under his touch.  Chris gradually worked his way down my back, varying his strokes from gentle caresses to deep pressure.  I didn’t even try to stop the pleased little noises he was drawing out of me.

 

Chris scooted back until he was sitting against my ass, and began rolling his knuckles into the tight muscles of my lower back. I let out a low moan, feeling all of the tension leaving one part of my body to reestablish itself in another.  

 

Leaning down over my back in a way that pressed his obvious hard-on into my ass, Chris kissed the back of my neck, murmuring, “Now I know why you leapt up like the bed was on fire that time you gave me a backrub. This is incredibly hot. Is it okay if I move a little lower?”

 

“Mmmhmmm,” I smiled, tipping my face up for a kiss. Chris obliged, before shimmying himself down my back, rubbing his cock against my ass for a tantalizing moment before sitting back on his heels and coming to rest on my thighs.

 

Chris leaned forward and brought his warm hands to my shoulders, sliding them slowly down until they came to rest on my ass. I squirmed a little at the too-much/not-enough feeling, and Chris placed his left hand firmly in the middle of my back, steadying me as he would one of the horses. With his right hand, he began rubbing leisurely circles around first one cheek, then the other.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a magnificent ass?”

 

I let out a bark of laughter.  “Now, who would have told me that, other than you?”

 

“Um, anyone who’s seen this magnificent ass.”

 

I snorted, and Chris brought both hands to the part of my body in question, squeezing in a way that went straight to my cock.

 

I swiveled around, coming to rest on my back and bringing my hands up to grip the hem of Chris’s pajama top.  “Off.”

 

“You want me to get off?”

 

“No – yes – that’s not what I meant…”

 

“Darren, you’re babbling,” Chris giggled.

 

I grinned up at him.  “I meant that I want your clothes off.”  Chris nodded, and I swiftly pulled off his shirt. “And then I don’t want you to get off _of_ me, I want you to get off _with_ me.”

 

Chris blushed, hastily scrambling out of his pajama bottoms and boxer briefs.  The moment he’d kicked his legs free, I reached up and dragged him down into a kiss.

 

Chris moaned, letting his body sink into mine. I realized with a thrill that this was yet another thing we’d never done before – lying together naked, his weight pressing me into the bed, our erections trapped snugly together between our overheated bodies. 

 

Chris began grinding down against me, and I felt my cock throb as my body lay writhing beneath him.  I clutched reflexively at his ass, finally finding my rhythm.  We surged together, panting into each other’s mouths.

 

Chris pulled his lips away from mine as he came, biting my shoulder.  I thrust up against him a few more times before my orgasm hit me.  Cradling the back of Chris’s head, I rolled us over and resumed our kiss.

 

I felt as through Chris and I were both boneless, melting into each other.  As I licked into his willing mouth, I could feel him smiling against my lips.

 

I finally broke the kiss and lay my head down on Chris’s shoulder.  “Best boyfriend ever,” I sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you know, I’ve just gotta repeat what I said in my End Notes to the corresponding chapter in the original story. Chris may have earned the title of “best boyfriend ever,” but you can be the “best reader ever” if you write me a review. ;D


	20. Taking Things Seriously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 21 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Do you know what’s better than sleeping on a pillow-top mattress, or a featherbed, or a cloud?  Sleeping on _Chris_.  

 

I would have been perfectly content to stay there forever, but, unfortunately, my comfortable resting place began jostling me none-to-gently. 

 

“Darren.  Alarm.  Morning.  Get up,” Chris grunted.

 

As I groggily rolled off him, Chris grimaced.   He dragged himself stiffly out of bed, groaning as he shuffled toward the bathroom.  I felt a momentary pang of concern, but soon drifted back to sleep with my head buried in the pillow that smelled so deliciously of Chris’s shampoo.  

 

I was reawakened by Chris shaking my shoulder.  “Dare, come on,” he said.  “We’re going to be late for the round up.”

 

“Mmpf.  Five more minutes.”

 

“Dare, honey, have you looked at yourself?  You’re going to need those five extra minutes to make yourself decent enough to be seen in public.”

 

I grumbled, but got up.  My belly felt itchy, and I stared bemusedly down at myself, scratching at the dried come I found there. 

 

I may have taken a little longer than usual in the bathroom that morning, between needing to get cleaned up and spending awhile just staring in the mirror with what I’m sure must have been a goofily dreamy expression on my face, thinking _so this is what I look like after Chris and I have slept together_ ** _naked_**.  

 

By the time we made it to the corral, Zach and Robert were already mounted up and waiting for us.  

 

“Rough night?” Zach asked, smirking.

 

I gave him my biggest smile as I answered, “Fantastic night.”

 

…

 

All through that day, I had a hard time concentrating on work.  Every time I looked at Chris I could picture him naked, and it was all I could do to keep my hands off of him in front of the campers.  I could barely wait until we were alone together. 

 

That evening, when we returned to our bunkhouse after dinner, though,  before I could even wrap my arms around him, Chris said, “I want to talk to you about something.”

 

“Baby, we can talk any time.  But this is the first chance I’ve had all day to kiss you.”

 

I reached for him, but Chris held up a hand to stop me.  “Dare, I’m serious.  We need to talk.”

 

At his tone, my mood went from playful to alarmed in a heartbeat.  “That doesn’t sound good.”

 

“It’s nothing bad.  I just think we need to re-establish our ground rules about not sleeping together on work nights.”

 

“How can you say it’s nothing bad and then say that you don’t want me to sleep in your bed anymore?!?” I cried.  “That’s the **_definition_** of bad!”

 

“I didn’t say I don’t want you to _ever_ sleep in my bed.  Saturday nights, when we’ve got plenty of time, and we don’t have to be up at the crack of dawn, we can still sleep together.  I just don’t want to have a repeat of this morning.  I felt really bad about making Robert and Zach wait for us like that.”

 

“We were ten minutes late.  Big deal.  They didn’t mind.”

 

“It was fifteen minutes, Darren.  And that’s not the point, anyway.  The point is, I _promised_ David and Ryan that we wouldn’t let our relationship interfere with our work.”

 

“I’m sure they don’t even know we were late.  It’s not like Robert and Zach are going to run and tattle on us.”

 

“Again, Darren, not the point.  David and Ryan _trust_ us, and we have a responsibility to them.  Do you have any idea how lucky we are to have these jobs?  I don’t want to screw this up.”

 

“Chris, baby, you’re overreacting.  Why do you have to take things so seriously all the time?  The world’s not going to end if you’re not perfect.  Just relax a little.”

 

“Well maybe _you_ don’t take things seriously _enough_ ,” Chris snapped, the sharpness in his voice slicing right through my heart. 

 

Our eyes met, and I could see his split-second realization that he’d hurt me, followed immediately by regret.  He continued much more softly, “Dare, honey, I love that you’re so easy-going.  It’s one of the reasons I think we work so well together.  But I’m not like you.  If I feel like I’m being irresponsible, I’m going to feel guilty, and I hate that feeling.  And if our relationship is interfering with my ability to do the best job I possibly can, then I’m afraid I’m going to end up feeling bad about myself, and feeling resentful of you.  And I really don’t want that to happen.”

 

“This is because I drooled in your hair last night, isn’t it?” I said ruefully.

 

Chris let out a snort of laughter, and the tension between us instantly evaporated.

 

“Are we having our first fight?” I asked.

 

“If I say yes, does that mean we get to kiss and make up?”

 

“Mmm hmm.”

 

“Well, then, yes, I guess we are.”

 

I took Chris’s face in my hands and brought our lips together for a tender kiss.  Pulling back slightly, I gazed directly into his eyes.  “You know I’ll always love you, right?”

 

“I know.  And I’ll always love you.  Even if you do drool in my hair occasionally.”

 

“So where does this leave us?”

 

“Well, for the rest of the summer, I really do think it would be best for us to only sleep together on Saturdays.”  

 

Before I could open my mouth to protest, Chris added, “But the summer’s already half over.  And once we’re at Michigan, we’ll just have to make sure not to enroll in any 6 AM classes.”

 

“They don’t offer any 6 AM classes.”

 

“Well, then we’ve got nothing to worry about, do we?  Now come on, we’ve still got a little while before we have to leave for the campfire.  Let’s make the most of it.”

 

“Now that, I won’t argue with.”

 

…

 

Later that night, lying alone on the top bunk, I started thinking back over my “fight” with Chris, and how we seemed to have different styles when it came to dealing with responsibilities.

 

Like I’ve said before, I’ve always been a pretty laid-back kind of a guy.  And a lot of the things that Chris tended to worry about just didn’t matter that much to me.  If I showed up a few minutes late for a round up, why should I sweat it?  

 

But when I thought about it further, I realized that there’s one thing that I’ve always taken _very_ seriously – and that’s my relationship with Chris.  So if something was a big deal to him, then I figured that made it a big deal to me, too.  

 

Chris and I may not have always been on the same page, but we were always co-authoring the same love story.  And I had some definite ideas in my mind about where I’d like the next chapter to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken me so long to update this. I’ve been experiencing technical difficulties, but I just got a new computer, and I think I’ve figured out how to use it, so I should be back to a more regular writing schedule now. :D


	21. "Can You Feel the Love?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s POV on the beginning of chapter 22 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I reluctantly submitted to Chris’s request that we sleep in our own beds for the rest of the week.  Every night, after we’d read a chapter of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ (having already finished _The Goblet of Fire_ ) I’d kiss him tenderly and then climb up onto the top bunk with a sigh. 

 

You know that cliche saying about how absence makes the heart grow fonder?  Well, my heart was already infinitely fond of Chris, but absence – that torturous few feet separating my top bunk from his lower one – did seem to bring out the romantic in me.  

 

Or maybe it was the residual high from singing “Not Alone” for him in front of a cafe full of people.  Or maybe it was bringing him home to meet my parents, and having them treat him exactly the way they’d treated every girlfriend Chuck had ever brought home.  Or maybe it was the thrill of showing him the tide pools, and losing our octopus virginity together…

 

Whatever the cause, I realized that – as amazing as my relationship with Chris already was – I wanted something more for us.  I wanted romance, and dates, and an old-fashioned courtship.  Although I loved how naturally we had been evolving from friends into boyfriends into lovers, I never wanted Chris to feel like I took any of this for granted.  So I decided to woohim.   

 

Of course, never having wooed anyone before, I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about it.  Since we were at camp, I couldn’t exactly buy him a dozen roses or a box of chocolates, but I did pick him some wildflowers and make him my best s’mores.  I made a point of letting him know just how amazing he was – which was easy, since he excelled at pretty much everything he did, from teaching, to riding, to singing.  And, whenever we were alone, I threw my whole heart into kissing him.

 

By Saturday afternoon, I felt dizzy with love.  We’d ridden out to one of our favorite private spots, and Chris was lying with his head in my lap as I fed him seedless red grapes.  I must have had a completely besotted expression on my face, and of course Chris noticed, and of course he called me on it.

 

“Darren,” he asked, gazing up at me with that amused fondness that I loved so much, “Are you trying to _woo_ me?”

 

“Maybe… Is it working?”

 

Chris laughed.  “Well, I’m certainly not complaining.  But you really don’t have to try so hard.  You’ve already _got_ me.”

 

Well, here’s the thing: all week long, I’d been carefully avoiding thinking about sex, instead choosing to pour all of my energy into creating a romantic connection with Chris.  But, for me, the emotional intimacy just fed right into my desire for physical intimacy.  And suddenly I felt this overwhelming need to combine the two.  

 

Although we were alone except for the horses, I glanced around and leaned down close to his ear before murmuring conspiratorially, “I want to blow you.”

 

I’d never seen Chris turn so red so fast.  He spluttered, “R-r-right now?”

 

“No. Tonight.  If you’ll let me.”

 

“Um… Okay.”

 

_Oh.  My.  God._ So _that_ was going to happen.

 

I had _not_ thought that through.  Because I’m a blurter.  No brain to mouth filter.  Or cock to mouth filter.  Or, in this case, mouth to mouth filter.  

 

I mean, yeah, my mouth wanted to be all over him.  Like, _all_ over him.  But I did _not_ want to mess up this sense of romance that I’d been so carefully nurturing all week.  And I _definitely_ did _not_ want Chris to feel like I’d been wooing him with the ulterior motive of getting into his pants.  Because that was _so_ not the case.

 

So I smiled at him, and kissed his forehead, and kept running my fingers through his hair.  And once he seemed to have regained his equilibrium enough that I wasn’t afraid he was going to choke, I went back to feeding him grapes.  And it was just the two of us (and our horses) in this lovely little meadow, and it was totally romantic as fuck.    

 

…

 

After dinner that evening, I looked into Chris’s eyes and could see a mixture of excitement and anxiety.  Well, the excitement I was all for, but I never wanted him to feel anxious about anything we did.  

 

“Let’s stay for the movie,” I suggested.  “I wanna have a date night with you.” 

 

We settled onto a bench at a table at the back of the room.  As soon as the lights went down, I slid my right arm around Chris’s waist, pulling his left hand across his body and interlacing our fingers.  I reached over and took his right hand in my left, wrapping him in a snug embrace.  Chris leaned into me, resting our heads together.

 

As the opening sequence to _The Lion King_ flashed on the screen, Chris sighed, and I could feel his body to relax into mine.  He squeezed my hands, and I squeezed back.

 

That night was everything I’d been wanting.  Chris and I might not have been the typical couple, but we were having the quintessential romantic evening together - dinner and a movie.  I felt like the luckiest guy in the world.  And, later, I planned on seeing if Chris and I could both get even luckier.

 

When the ending credits began to roll, I unwound my arms, turning on the bench to face Chris.  Grasping both of his hands in my own, I sang along to “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?”  And I knew he could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize (again) for the delay in updating. I kind of got caught up in a little side project, but I promise I haven't forgotten this story. Please review. :D


	22. Mission Accomplished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s POV on the end of chapter 22 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Back in our bunkhouse after the movie, I hopped in the shower.  Although I’d loved showering with Chris at my parents’ house, the tiny shower stall in our bathroom at camp was too small to even consider sharing.  And that night, I was actually glad to shower alone, ‘cause I had plans for later, and I didn’t want to let anything distract me.

 

As I ran my soapy hands over my body, I let myself imagine Chris’s fingers caressing every inch of my skin.  Once I was clean – and totally worked up from the images in my head – I took my cock in hand, remembering what it had felt like when Chris had first touched me.  I tried to duplicate the experience – how he’d started out slow, and kind of hesitant, and then how he’d begun stroking harder and faster, pulling my orgasm right out of me.

 

Well, that was effective.

 

I gave myself a final rinse before turning off the water and toweling myself dry.  As soon as I exited the bathroom, Chris rushed in, looking impatient.  I guess I’d taken a little longer than usual in there, but I figured I’d make it up to him…  

 

I put on my pajamas, then picked up my guitar, strumming idly while I daydreamed about what Chris was doing in the shower, and what I’d be doing as soon as he came out. 

 

Once Chris emerged, clad only in a towel, I quickly set the guitar aside and walked over to wrap my arms around him.  “Mmmm…  You smell good.”

 

Chris giggled.  “You mean I don’t smell like a horse, for a change.”

 

I nuzzled under his ear.  “No, I mean you smell _really_ good.”

 

“C’mere,” I added, taking Chris’s hand and leading him to the bed.  “Can we lose the towel?”

 

Chris nodded, tossing the towel over the back of a chair.  I allowed him to pull off my shirt, but as he reached for the waistband of my pajama bottoms, I grasped his hands, stilling them.  “I jerked off in the shower,” I admitted nonchalantly.  “I want tonight to be all about you.”

 

Chris seemed to have been rendered temporarily speechless.  

 

I pulled back the covers and patted the bed, inviting him to lie down.  Once he was stretched out on his back, I lay down next to him, leaning on one elbow.  

 

Brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes with a fingertip, I murmured, “I want to kiss you all over.”

 

“Be my guest.”

 

I began by kissing Chris’s forehead, then his closed eyelids.  I kissed the tips of his nose and chin, before working my way up his jaw to his earlobe, which I nibbled at teasingly.  I moved down the side of his neck, alternating my kisses with gentle nips.  Chris let out a pleased little hum.

 

I noticed a flush spreading down from his usually pale cheeks to his throat and chest.  The sight stirred something deep within me.  There it was, tangible proof, written on his skin, of the effect I was having on him.  It gave me a delicious sort of rush.  

 

I continued down Chris’s neck to his collarbone, tonguing the hollow above it, before sliding my lips to his shoulder and scraping my teeth lightly over his skin.  I worked my way gradually down the outside of his arm, lifting it up as I went.  

 

When I reached Chris’s hand, I kissed the tip of each finger, then slowly drew one into my mouth, swirling my tongue in a way that made Chris gasp.  I figured he must be thinking about the blow job I’d mentioned earlier.  I certainly was. 

 

Glancing up at him, I asked, “Is this okay?”

 

“Mmm hmm.”

 

I sucked on each finger in turn, and out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of his cock twitching in vicarious pleasure.  He began letting out breathy little moans as I kissed up along the inside of his arm, stopping to tongue at the crease of his elbow.      

 

God, those sounds.  I was quickly becoming addicted to them.

 

Reaching Chris’s armpit, I grasped his hand and placed it down on the pillow over his head, giving myself better access to nuzzle into the soft hair there.  I would have gladly stayed there, just breathing in the clean, heady scent of him, but Chris squirmed, and I relented, releasing his hand and beginning to kiss my way down his side.  

 

I continued on along the outside of Chris’s hip and leg, scooting myself down on the bed until I reached his foot.  There, I gave his toes the same treatment I’d given to his fingers.  I knew that Chris’s feet tended to be ticklish, but as my tongue traced each one of those precious little toes he let out a moan rather than a giggle.

 

I began to kiss and nibble my way up the inside of his leg.  When I reached his inner thigh, Chris drew in a sharp breath in obvious anticipation.  Part of me wanted to just go for it as much as he clearly wanted me to, but I was enjoying the feeling of worshiping every inch of his body too much to stop.  So I simply grinned up at him before transferring my attention to the opposite thigh and beginning to work my way back down to his other foot.  

 

Chris let out a groan that sounded like equal parts desire and frustration, as I began repeating all of my actions in reverse on the other side of his body. By the time I finally made my way back up to his face, Chris grabbed me hard and pulled me into a desperate kiss.  

 

“You’re killing me here,” he panted.

 

“I’m just kissing you,” I said, as innocently as I could manage.  “You did say I could kiss you all over, right?”

 

“Oh my god, you are seriously going to kill me.”

 

I winked at him.  “At least you’ll die happy.”

 

And with that, I resumed my mission.  I kissed my way down Chris’s throat to his chest, then slid my tongue over to one taut nipple.  His body jolted, and he cried out in surprise.  I raised my head to smile up at him, checking to make sure that he was enjoying this as much as I was, then lowered it again to lap at the hard little nub.  Chris began writhing beneath me, fisting his hands in my hair and pulling me away.  

 

“Oh my god,” he cried, voice strained, “why does that feel so good?”

 

“I don’t know,” I answered, pushing my head up into his hands.  “Can I try the other side?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

I nibbled my way across Chris’s chest, swirling my tongue around the outside of his other nipple before flicking lightly at the tip.  

 

“Ungh,” Chris breathed out, as I flattened my tongue, pressing his nipple firmly into his ribs.  “Fuck!”

 

“Christopher Paul Colfer!  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear.”

 

“I had no idea… this was even like… a thing… for guys….  Do you even know… what you’re doing to me?  …It’s so intense…”

 

“I’m kind of getting that impression,” I said, unable to hold back a devilish grin.

 

“Do it again.”

 

I wasted no time in complying.  Chris let out a stream of almost pained-sounding little whimpers as I traced a path from one nipple to the other and back again, before sliding down to lick into his navel.  

 

Raw _want_ was pouring off of him in waves, and I felt like I would gladly drown in it.  

 

Finally, finally, _finally_ , I allowed my lips to kiss the tip of his cock.  My tongue snaked out of its own accord to trace a path up from the base to the head, where I barely had a chance to give an experimental suck before I felt Chris come undone.  An unfamiliar taste flooded my mouth, and I swallowed quickly.     

    

Chris gasped for breath, then panted out “Sorry.”

 

“Hey, no, why would you be sorry?”

 

“Because I came in like two seconds.  That has to have been the longest build-up to the shortest actual blow job in history.”

 

“But did you enjoy it?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

My heart swelled at that one, blissed-out sounding word.  “Well, then, mission accomplished!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of writer’s block about this chapter, but now that I’ve finished it I’m actually pretty pleased with how it turned out. Let me know what you think.


	23. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on Chapter 23 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I woke up the next morning with Chris wrapped in my arms, warm and soft in sleep.  I lay there for a moment, fully intent on just holding him for as long as possible, but the nape of his neck was begging to be kissed, and I couldn’t resist its call.

 

Soon I could feel him stirring against me, then snuggling backward to bring our bodies even closer.  He raised our linked hands to his lips, kissing the back of my knuckles.  

 

“Okay,” Chris murmured, turning our hands over and placing a kiss in the center of  my palm, “as long as you promise not to make me late for work, you can sleep in my bed from now on.”

 

Best. Morning. Ever.

 

Until the next morning, which was even better.  And the one after that.  And the one after that.  And I think you catch my drift.  Each morning that I got to wake up with Chris was totally awesome.

 

I did _not_ want to do anything to jeopardize the possibility of sharing Chris’s bed every night, so I was always careful to make sure he’d get plenty of sleep and we’d be on time for the roundups. 

 

On Sunday evening, as soon as I’d finished reading a chapter of _Harry Potter_ , I announced, “Okay, it’s time for lights-out.  Let’s go right to sleep so we’ll be sure to wake up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for work tomorrow.”

 

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Dare?  Are you secretly a were-squirrel?”

 

“Nope.  I’m a love-bug.  And I know that if I don’t want you calling the exterminators to chase me out of your bed, then I’d better let you get enough sleep on work nights.”

 

Chris giggled, wrapping his arms around me.  “Goodnight, you goofball.”

 

 

Monday morning, we held hands as we walked through the dawn’s early light (which always made me think of _The Star Spangled Banner_ ) toward the corral.  Knowing that none of the campers were up this early, Chris allowed me to pull him in for a kiss once we reached the gate.  

 

A wolf-whistle from behind us announced the arrival of Zach and Robert.  Chris tried to pull away, but I grabbed his face with both hands and extended our kiss for a few more seconds.  Then, with a wink and a grin, I stepped back and launched into the chorus of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.”

 

I finished with a bow, and Zach and Robert applauded, laughing.  Chris pushed me playfully on the shoulder.  “Come on, you show-off.  Lets go round up the horses.”

 

 

That evening, back in bed for some cuddle-time in between dinner and the campfire, I reminded Chris, “You know, we have to plan our skit for the Founder’s Day celebration.  It’s coming up the day after tomorrow, and we still haven’t decided what we’re going to do.”

 

“Hmm….  How about revamping the one those four counselors did when we were kids, where they were pretending to be Bridget and Gidget the Midgets getting ready for work?  Remember how two of them were wearing shorts on their arms and shoes on their hands, and the other two were hiding behind them and pretending to be their arms?  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”

 

“I don’t know.  There are only two of us, and plus I think the term ‘midgets’ is now considered offensive by most little people.”

 

“Well, that’s why I said we’d revamp it, not just copy it.  What if we had you   be a Kindergartner getting ready for school?  We could ask Zach to play your dad, and I could be your arms.” 

 

“Ooh, that could work!  We could call it ‘Daisy’s First Day of Kindergarten,’ and I could be a little girl who’s all excited about starting school.  I bet the kids would love that!” 

 

“That’s perfect!  I’d almost forgotten that we used to call you Daisy.  Let’s figure out all the things we can have you do, and any props we’re going to need, so we can check in with Zach and Ryan tonight at the campfire.”

 

 

 

I was really pumped up for our Founder’s Day skit on Wednesday.  Chris and I had it all planned out, and we’d given Zach a rough script, but we hadn’t actually rehearsed it.  I figured it would be funnier if we just muddled through without knowing exactly how it was going to go.

 

There were several acts up before ours.  Chord did a bunch of hilarious impressions, Harry and Jacob wowed everyone with their slick dance moves, and David surprised us all with some magic tricks.  

 

When the curtain finally came up on our act (or, actually, when Brad and Ian dropped the sheet they’d been holding up in front of our makeshift stage) the kids immediately burst into surprised laughter.  I was “standing” on a table, with my hands inside of kid-sized shoes, my real legs hidden by the floor-length table cloth.  I had a little pink towel around my lower arms as a skirt, and my chest and upper arms were inside the center of a white sweatshirt.  Chris was out of sight behind me, except for his arms, which were sticking through the arms of the sweatshirt, as though they were mine. 

 

Zach had decided that it would be funnier if he played my mom instead of my dad, so he had on a flowered dress (no idea where he got that) and his hair was up in old-fashioned curlers.

 

Once the laughter had subsided enough that the kids could hear him, Zach turned to me and announced, “It’s time to get ready for your first day of Kindergarten, Daisy.”

 

I gave an exaggerated yawn, and Chris stretched his arms up over my head.  

 

“Since you’re a big girl now, you can pour your own cereal and milk for breakfast,” Zach said.

 

He put a bowl down on the table in front of me, along with a box of Cheerios and a carton of milk.  Chris - not being able to see anything - fumbled around until his hands found the bowl and the cereal.  He tipped the box over the bowl, but nothing came out.

 

“Mmmm…  Cheerios, my favorite,” I said, in my best little-girl voice.  “I guess I’d better open the box so I can pour them.”

 

Chris needed both hands to get the box open, and he had to squeeze me pretty tightly to do it, but I was _so_ not complaining.  

 

Once the box was open, I said, “Okay, now I’m gonna pour them in.”

 

Chris tipped the box over the bowl once more, and this time an avalanche of Cheerios cascaded out.  The kids roared with laughter.

 

“Ooops!” I said.  “Guess I got a little carried away with how much I really love Cheerios.  Now, all I need is some milk.”

 

Chris waved his hands around, knocking over the milk carton, which, thankfully, was closed.  Once he got ahold of it, he opened it up and splashed some milk in the general direction of the bowl.  

 

“Woops!” I giggled.  “I’d better hold the bowl with one hand while I pour with the other.”

 

Finally, Chris managed to get some milk in the bowl.

 

Zach put a spoon in Chris’s hand.  “Okay, Daisy,” he said, “eat your breakfast.”

 

The kids were in hysterics as Chris tried to feed me the cereal.  He clearly had no idea where my mouth was.  When I started to think I was in danger of losing an eye to his flailing spoon, I finally said, “I think I’m just going to hold up the bowl and bring my mouth down to it like a doggie.”

 

Chris went along with that, although he did manage to spill a good bit of my breakfast down my shirt.

 

“Daisy, I think you need a napkin,” Zach said, handing one to Chris, who dabbed ineffectually at my face and chest.

 

“Now it’s time to brush your teeth,” Zach said, placing a toothbrush in one of Chris’s hands and a tube of toothpaste in the other.  “I already took the cap off of the toothpaste for you, so this should be easy.”  

 

Zach winked at the audience with that last line, and I prepared for the worst.

 

Chris squeezed the toothpaste, emptying about half of the tube onto the toothbrush, which he then started waving toward my face.  I figured the safest thing to do would be to help him get it in my mouth, but we were having no luck coordinating our movements.  I ended up with toothpaste on my cheeks, in my hair, and even in one of my ears.  By the time Chris finally found my teeth, the kids were literally rolling on the floor, laughing, and I had tears coming out of my eyes.

 

“Okay,” Zach said (trying - and failing - to keep a straight face) “I think you’d better rinse your mouth and then wash your face, Daisy.” 

 

Zach handed Chris a cup of water, which he miraculously brought right to my lips.  But my brief feeling of relief was instantly drowned when he tipped it too far back and nearly choked me.  I ended up spitting a huge mouthful of toothpastey water all over the front row of campers, who shrieked in disgusted delight.

 

It was pretty much all downhill from there in terms of any shred of dignity I might have had left.  Chris was clearly reveling in his power to make the kids laugh by doing his worst to me.  The face-washing and hair-brushing were bad enough, but then he had the nerve to pipe up from behind me, imitating my little-girl voice.

 

“Mommy, remember you said I could wear lipstick to school?”

 

Zach handed Chris and open tube of bright red lipstick, and my mouth fell open in shock as I realized that the two of them had cooked this up behind my back.  The kids whooped and cheered as Chris drew all over my lips and teeth, and then gasped as I almost bit his hand.  I could feel Chris’s body pressed tight up against me, shaking with barely suppressed laughter.  

 

“Okay, okay!” I cried.  “I think I’m pretty enough now, Mommy!”

 

Zach took pity on me and removed the lipstick from Chris’s hand.  “Alright, Daisy,” he said.  “Then I guess it’s time for you to do a little song and dance for me before the school bus comes.”

 

He cued up the music for “Walking on Sunshine,” and I sang and bopped along, kicking my feet (hands) in the air as Chris waved my (his) arms in time with the beat.  We finished to thunderous applause.

 

 

Later that night, properly scrubbed, and curled up in bed with Chris, I said, “Tell me the truth - you took a little vicious pleasure in that performance, didn’t you?”

 

Chris snickered.  Yes, he actually snickered.  “Okay, I did,” he admitted.  “But only because I knew you didn’t really mind.  After all, our goal was to make the kids laugh, and we certainly succeeded in that.”

 

“Yeah.  I’m sure they’ll never let me live it down.”

 

“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying it every bit as much as I was.”

 

“Well,” I conceded, “it was kind of awesome being connected like that, in a disturbing, trippy sort of way.  It was almost like being possessed.”

 

“Do you have a lot of experience with being possessed, Dare?” Chris teased.

 

“Not first hand, no.  But I’ve imagined what it might have been like for Quirrel, when he was sharing his body with Voldemort.  Like, was he embarrassed when he had to go to the bathroom?”

 

Chris laughed.  “You have a really twisted mind.  You know that, right?”

 

“But you love me anyway.”

 

“Of course I do.”

 

“Then feel free to possess me any time.”    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve never seen a skit like the one described here, check this out:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeUcYjpVaLo&feature=youtu.be&t=0m25s  
>  And, if you’re wondering where Darren’s twisted mind eventually led him, watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3c9K6MKCIs


	24. How To Make Chris Colfer Blush:  A Lesson from His Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren’s POV on chapter 24 of As a White Knight on His Steed

Have I mentioned what amazing bosses Ryan and David were?  Well, they outdid themselves in the awesome department when they let me and Chris both have a long weekend off to go to Clovis for his sister’s birthday.

 

As soon as we finished leading our final trail ride on Thursday, we hit the road, stopping for fast food in Santa Cruz on our way out of town.  The drive to Clovis was twice as long and not nearly as scenic as the drive to San Francisco, but I couldn’t have cared less.  Any time Chris and I spent alone together was, by definition, a good time.

 

Chris challenged me to a rematch of Encore, and of course I agreed.  After all, since the winner had to give the loser a backrub, I figured I’d win either way.  

 

We happily passed mile after mile, singing back and forth, and often joining in on each other’s songs.  By the midpoint of our journey, Chris was up, 9 words to 7, when I finally admitted, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually tired of singing.  I give up.  You win.”

 

“Yay!  You owe me a backrub.”

 

“I guess I do,” I replied, not disappointed in the least.

 

“I’ll have to decide when to cash it in, though.  If it happens this weekend, it’ll have to be strictly platonic.  I am _not_ having sex in my parents’ house.  So maybe we’d better wait ‘til we get back to camp.”

 

“If you ask me nicely,” I purred, placing my hand on Chris’s thigh, “I might just give you two.  A G-rated one this weekend, and then an NC-17 one when we’ve got a little more privacy.”

 

The car swerved a little as Chris processed that offer.  “I promise to ask you _very_ nicely, when we’re not in a moving vehicle.  But right now, you need to take your hand off of my leg, and change the subject, if you want us to get where we’re going in one piece.”

 

I grinned at him, taking my hand off of his thigh and patting his shoulder while I racked my brain for something to talk about that wouldn’t cause him to crash the car.  It was a little difficult to do, since all of the images that were popping into my mind involved Chris spread out naked under my eager hands.

 

_Hmmm…_

 

_Oh, right, must change subject…_

 

I gave myself a mental slap.  We were on our way to visit Chris’s family.  That should be a safe topic of conversation.

 

As a kid, I’d had a kind of love/hate relationship with Chris’s parents.  I loved them when they brought him to camp at the beginning of the summer, and I hated to see them arrive to take him away when the summer was over.  But I hadn’t seen them - or really thought about them much - since we were 12.

 

 “Okay, subject change.  Tell me all about your family.”

 

“Well, you already know quite a bit.  My parents have always been really accepting and supportive.  They’re great, but I don’t always feel like I can burden them with my problems, because they have to spend so much energy focusing on my sister.  No matter how many different medications they’ve tried, Hannah’s still having over 50 seizures an hour, every hour of every day.”

 

“What are they like, her seizures?”

 

“Most of the time, they don’t seem like a big deal to someone on the outside.  It’s just like something flicks off this switch in her brain, and suddenly she’s… gone… for a moment.  And then it flicks back on, and she’s with you again.  But it’s really hard on her, because she gets disoriented, and she might not be able to remember what she was doing right away.  And sometimes she has really bad seizures that she can’t come out of on her own, and my parents have to take her to the hospital.  That’s always scary.”

 

I was shocked, hearing that.  I mean, I’d always known that Hannah had epilepsy, and Chris had shared with me all of the conflicting feelings he’d had about her, growing up - the worry, the jealousy, the protectiveness, the love.  But he’d never before spelled out the full extent of her medical condition.

 

“Is it going to be an extra stress on Hannah and your parents, having me there this weekend?” I asked, wondering whether it would have been better if I hadn’t come along.

 

“No, not at all.  They all really want you to come.  Especially Hannah.  She’s so amazing.  She just loves everyone….  Kind of like you do,” Chris added, fondly.

 

“I _like_ everyone,” I corrected him.  “I **_love_** you.”

 

 

It was almost nine o’clock by the time Chris pulled the car into his parents’ driveway.  We got our bags out of the trunk and walked up the path to the front door.  Jake, the golden retriever I’d heard so much about, barked a joyous welcome as we entered the house.

Chris’s mom came to greet us, shushing the dog.  She hugged Chris tightly.   Stepping back and gripping his shoulders, she peered at him closely.  “I know it’s only been a couple of months, but you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.”

 

Then, turning to me, she said, “Welcome, Darren.  I’m so glad you could make it for Hannah’s birthday.  She’s really excited to see you.  She’d be down here right now, but she had a rough night last night, and Chris’s dad stayed up with her, so they’ve both gone to bed already.”

 

I stepped forward, opening my arms, and Chris’s mom gave me a (slightly surprised seeming) hug.   

 

“Thanks so much for having me, Mrs. Colfer.”

 

“Please, call me Karyn.”

 

“Okay, then.  Thanks so much for having me, Karyn.  I’ve always wanted to see where Chris lived.”

 

“Well, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s full of love, and that’s the most important thing in a home, don’t you think?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

“I know you’re probably tired from your drive, but would you like a snack before bed?”

 

“That sounds great.”

 

Chris and I followed his mom to the kitchen, where she laid out cheese and crackers and grapes.  Sitting down at the table with us, Karyn said, “I got the air mattress out of the garage, but I didn’t bother blowing it up, because I didn’t know if you’d want to use it.  I know you’ve been sharing a bunkhouse at camp, but I wasn’t sure what your sleeping arrangements are.”

 

I watched a blush rise on Chris’s face.  He kept his eyes on his food as he answered, “Um, no, I don’t think we’ll need the air mattress.”

 

“Okay.  Well, since I’ve got you two alone, there’s something I want to talk to you about.  I’m not trying to pry into your personal lives, but I think it’s important that you have accurate information about sex, in case that’s something that ever becomes part of your relationship.  I know you had some sort of sex education in school, but I don’t suppose it was very specific when it came to discussing what gay men might do together.”

 

“Oh my god!” Chris cried, clearly horrified.  “Mom, you’re embarrassing me!”

 

I thought I should come to his mother’s defense.  “Chris, your mom’s just looking out for you.  That’s what parents are supposed to do.”

 

Karyn smiled at me.  “Thank you, Darren.  And don’t worry, Christopher, I’m not planning on going into graphic detail at the kitchen table.”

 

Chris groaned, dropping his head in his hands.  

 

Undaunted, his mother continued.  “I’ve been looking online, and there’s some very dangerous misinformation out there.  But I found a website where you can get clear, factual answers to any questions you might have.  It’s called _Go Ask Alice_ , and it’s run by Columbia University health services.”

 

“Thanks, Karyn.  We’ll check it out.  Right, Chris?” I said, kicking him under the table.

 

“Yes, Mom,” Chris muttered, still feeling mortified.  “Now, if you don’t have any naked baby pictures of me that you want to show my boyfriend, can we please go to bed before I die of humiliation?”

 

Oh my god.  Naked baby pics!  I made a mental note to catch Karyn alone later and get her to break out the photo albums.

 

“Okay, sweetie,” Chris’s mom said, getting up from the table and ruffling his hair as she walked past.  “Goodnight, Darren.  Sleep well.”

 

“Goodnight, Karyn.  Thanks again.”

 

Once his mother had left the room, Chris and I glanced at each other and burst into hysterical laughter.

 

It was a long time before either of us could stop.  Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, Chris finally choked out, “I can’t believe you went along with that.  You are the biggest kiss-ass ever!”

 

Winking at him suggestively, I retorted, “You wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments make me smile. :)


	25. I Guess I Got a Little Carried Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darren's POV on chapter 25 of As a White Knight on His Steed

I could barely contain my excitement as Chris led me up to his bedroom.  As soon as he’d closed the door I leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Do you want to see what a kiss-ass I can be?”

 

“Darren!” Chris hissed.  “I told you – we are _not_ having sex in my parents’ house!”

 

“I thought maybe a little ass kissing wouldn’t count.”

 

“Dare, you’re the one who said _everything_ counts.”

 

“Damn - foiled by my own brilliance.”

 

“Come on,” Chris said, laughing, “it’s been a long day.  Let’s get some sleep.”

 

Well, considering that Chris’s parents were cool with letting us share a bed, I wasn’t going to complain.  And there was something special about it being _his_ bed, in _his_ room, in _his_ childhood home.  

 

The last thing I remember thinking, before I drifted off to sleep, was _I’ve gotta get a Chewbacca backpack like that someday…_

 

I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains in Chris’s room.  I cuddled closer to him, enjoying the luxury of having been able to sleep in on a weekday.  Chris yawned, stretched, kissed my forehead, then rolled out of bed.  

 

“Hey, no, where are you going?” I complained, reaching for him.

 

“You can go back to sleep if you want, Dare.  I’m gonna go see if Hannah’s awake.”

 

Chris leaned over to kiss me once more before heading out to find his sister.  I closed my eyes and was just drifting back to sleep when I was shocked into alertness by the sound of two sets of high-pitched squeals.  Apparently, Chris and Hannah were excited to see each other.

 

I dragged myself out of bed and wandered down the hall in search of the source of the commotion.  I found Chris and his sister holding hands and jumping up and down on her bed, giggling.

 

Spotting me in the doorway, Chris called out, “Hey, Darren.  Come meet Hannah.”

 

Never one to be outdone in the bouncing department, I hopped up to join the other two on the bed.  Chris and Hannah each let go of one hand in order to grab onto me, and soon all three of us were jumping up and down, shrieking with glee.

 

Chris’s father cleared his throat loudly from the doorway.  “If I have to fix the leg on that bed again, I’m going to make you help me, Christopher.”

 

Chris leapt off the bed and rushed to hug his father.  “Sorry, Dad,” he said.  “Hannah and I just really missed each other.”

 

“So I can see.  And hear,” Chris’s dad said, obviously trying to sound stern, but failing miserably.  “I really missed you, too.”

 

I hopped down and came to join them.  “Sorry about the disturbance, Mr. Colfer,” I said.  “My mother would insist on telling you that she raised me to have better manners than this when I’m a guest in someone’s home.  I guess I got a little carried away.”

 

Chris’s dad smiled at me warmly and held out a hand for me to shake.  “Don’t worry about it, Darren.  Chris and his sister do this all the time.”

 

I shook the proffered hand, as Chris’s father added, “And please, call me Tim.”

 

“Thanks, Tim,” I said, smiling back at him.

 

Tim turned toward his daughter.  “So, birthday girl, what would you like for breakfast?”

 

“Can I have blueberry pancakes?”

 

“You got it.”

 

 

Hannah wanted to spend her birthday at the pool, so after brunch we all changed into our swimsuits and headed out to the car.  Leaving the air-conditioned house, I was shocked by how hot it was outside.  I was used to the mild climate of the Bay Area, and hadn’t really thought about how far inland Clovis was.  

 

“Wow – it’s not even noon yet, and it must be 90 degrees out already.  No wonder you wanted to go to the pool.”

 

“It’s supposed to go up to a hundred this afternoon,” Karyn told me.  “But we’re used to it.  We’ll just keep re-applying our sunscreen, and spend the day in the water.”

 

When we reached the public pool, I was pleased to discover that it was less crowded than I would have expected.  I supposed that a lot of the local families must have their own pools, given the inland heat.  I followed the Colfers to a spot in the shade, where we all laid out our beach towels and deposited our bags.  Then the five of us made our way down to the pool.

 

We started out in the shallow end, where Hannah happily splashed around, pulling the rest of us into a series of made-up games in the water.  After about an hour, Chris’s parents decided they were ready to go sit in the shade for a while.  

 

Chris and I kept playing with Hannah, slipping easily from underwater tea parties to shark tag to some sort of sea otter fantasy game that I couldn’t quite grasp.

 

“You be the mommy otter,” Hannah told Chris, “and I’ll be the baby.”

 

“What about me?” I asked.

 

“You can be the daddy.”

 

“Okay,” I said, probably smiling too widely.

 

There didn’t seem to be a lot of rules to this game.  It mostly involved Chris twirling his sister around in the water, and then sending me to dive down to the bottom of the ocean to bring up abalones for her to eat.

 

Since my life is a song cue, I couldn’t resist bursting out with a few lines from “Colors of the Wind” — although I think I may have messed up the words a little bit.  “The rainstorm and the river are my otters, the things and all the thingies are my friends…”

 

“But what about the abalones?” Hannah asked.  “Are we eating your friends?”

 

Chris gave me a _How are you going to get yourself out of this one?_ smirk.

 

“Don’t you worry your beautiful little heads,” I told them.  “My friends the abalones _like_ to be eaten.”

 

I tried to catch Chris’s eye, but he was steadfastly avoiding my gaze.  I could see him biting his lip, though, trying not to laugh, so I was satisfied.

 

When it was nap time for the otters, Hannah announced that we all had to hold each other’s paws so we wouldn’t drift away in the waves.  We tried floating on our backs, but it was hard to stay afloat while holding hands.  So Chris and I ended up standing in the water, rocking Hannah back and forth in our linked arms.

 

Eventually, Hannah asked if she could go on the water slide.  Chris said “sure,” and the three of us made our way over to the stairs.  Compared with slides I’d been on at Waterworld or Raging Waters, it wasn’t particularly impressive – just a two-story climb, with a curving tube that sloped gradually down and emptied into the pool.  The good thing about this one, though, was that there wasn’t much of a line.  In a couple of minutes, we’d reached the top.

 

Hannah sat down at the top of the slide, and Chris positioned himself behind his sister, wrapping his arms around her.  The lifeguard held out a hand to stop them.  “One at a time on the slide,” he said, tapping a metal sign on which the rules were posted.

 

“My sister has special needs,” Chris explained.  “Someone has to ride with her.”

 

“Sorry,” the lifeguard said.  “I can’t let you go down together.  I’ll lose my job if I don’t enforce the rules.”

 

Chris sighed, getting to his feet, and pulling Hannah up behind him.  “You go on down,” he told me.  “Hannah and I will meet you at the bottom of the stairs.”

 

“No, that’s okay, I’ll stay with you guys.”

 

The three of us walked back down the stairs, Chris trying to explain to his sister why they couldn’t go down the slide together.  “I know we’ve done it lots of times before, but this lifeguard must be new.  He doesn’t understand that it’s okay.  We’ll just go talk to Mom and she’ll get it sorted out.”

 

When she heard what had happened, Karyn went to go speak with the pool manager.  Hannah, Chris, and I flopped down in the shade with Tim to wait for her.  

 

Karyn returned shortly.  “I reminded the manager about the Americans with Disabilities Act, and he said he’d go talk with the new lifeguard right away.  Give him a few minutes, and then you can head back down.”

 

When we returned to the top of the slide, the lifeguard greeted us with an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, guys.  I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.  I just didn’t want to get in trouble with my boss.  But he says it’s fine for you to ride together.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Chris told him, returning the smile.  “I know you were only trying to do your job.”

 

Chris held Hannah in front of him, and the two set off down the twisting slide.  Hannah squealed joyfully, and I loved the sound of Chris joining in.  

 

Once they were safely down, I followed, landing near them with a splash and a whoop.  “That was great!” I cried.  “Let’s do it again!”

 

After several more trips down the slide, Hannah turned to me and asked, “Will you ride with me next time?”

 

I glanced at Chris, silently asking if that would be okay.  At Chris’s nod, I told her, “I’d love to.”

 

When we got back to the top of the slide, I sat down behind Hannah, carefully cradling her against my chest.  I knew it would be important to find my footing as soon as we reached the bottom, so I could make sure to keep her face out of the water, just in case she had a seizure and wasn’t able to hold her breath.  I was well aware of how protective Chris was of his sister, and I felt honored that he trusted me to take care of her.

 

Hannah and I zoomed down the slide together.  “That was awesome!” I exclaimed.  “It’s so much faster with two people.  Will you ride with me again?”

 

Hannah looked thrilled.  “Yeah,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the side of the pool.  “Come on!”

 

After we took a second trip down the slide together, Chris stepped in and said that it was his turn to ride with his sister.  Hannah giggled delightedly as we pretended to fight over her before finally agreeing to take turns.

 

By the end of the afternoon, all three us were blissfully exhausted.  Hannah fell asleep during the car ride home, sitting in the backseat between me and Chris.  He leaned over and whispered, “Thanks for being so good with her.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” I answered sincerely.  

 

Chris smiled at me affectionately, and a sudden, unexpected thought popped into my mind.  _Was this what it would be like if we had kids of our own some day?_

 

Like, not soon, or even in the foreseeable future.  I mean, at 18, I still felt like a kid myself most days.  But maybe another 18 years down the road, when we were married, with stable careers, and our own home…

 

Oh.  My.  God.  Was I seriously thinking about getting married and having kids?!?  Maybe I’d been out in the sun too long.

 

…

 

Or maybe I just knew that Chris was _the one_. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like Glee, this story’s been on a bit of a hiatus lately. I’d like to thank SharinaNoLastName for reminding me that there are people out there who’d like to read more, and inspiring me to actually sit down and write this chapter.
> 
> If you’d like to hear Darren messing up the words to “Colors of the Wind,” check out this link:   
> http://youtu.be/xFpGVkg9SNk?t=1m5s


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